Day of Black
by macadoodle1996
Summary: Sirius Black is fighting his demons to reach his family. His daughter has gone to the demons to protect what's left of hers. Nothing will ever be the same. Part 2/3, sequel of The Lost Heir. UNDER CONSTRUCTION! Please excuse the mess, currently under rewrites!
1. A Visit to Knockturn Alley

**A/N: Hello all! So begins the promised rewrite! In this chapter is an entirely new scene, along with various little edits. If you just want to read the new bit, skip down to the first line break. I hope to be posting 2-3 chapters a week, as well as posting a chapter to part 3 every week, at least while I'm on Christmas break. But, you know me, so we'll see how it goes. For newcomers and old-comers alike, please read and review! ;)**

Three figures stood silently atop a hill. One, a pretty woman in her late thirties, was sobbing openly into a handkerchief as another, a young man on the cusp of adulthood, stood stoically supporting her, refusing to give into the grief that had him looking so much older than his years. The third, a young woman, bent slowly to the earth. Her hands were cupped, full of dirt, with a small sproutling in the middle. She gently placed the plant into a hole in the ground.

"There," she said. Her voice cracked, and against her will the tears began to fall, watering the soil beneath her. She all but collapsed on the ground, her strength leaving her. Her godbrother grabbed her, helping her to stand again.

"He wouldn't want you to be like this," he said softly, "neither of you. He would want you to be strong, keep fighting."

The young woman nodded, wishing that she had something more of him, something more than an empty grave and a little dogwood tree. He deserved so much more than what he had got.

The little family jumped at a small explosion that came from just beyond the hills. They turned as one to see brightly colored lights and smoke emanating from just beyond the horizon. The two young people narrowed their eyes, both reaching for something in their pockets, while the older woman simply shook, looking as though she was soon to float away from this world into the next.

"We've got to go," the young man said. "We're too much in the open—it isn't safe anymore."

"Damn it teh 'ell," the young woman said bitterly. "Why 'asn' Dumbledore done anythin'?"

The older woman sighed. "Bailey, 'e is a very busy man, an' 'e 'as a lot on 'is plate, a lot o' people to keep safe—"

"More importan' people than the Chosen One?" Bailey said, a slight snarl to her tone. The young man went a bit red.

"You know I—" he began.

"Hush, 'arry, yeh're a priority in this war whether yeh like it or not," she replied, cutting him off.

He pursed his lips. "C'mon. Let's get back to the house," he said as another explosion went off in the distance.

He put his arm around both women's shoulders as they began their trek back to the little farmhouse. Bailey put a hand into her dark robes' pocket where there was a small slip of paper that had been there since before the beginning of summer. It had weighed heavily on her mind since she had been given it.

The side of the Light was doing nothing to keep Bailey and her family safe. She would have to start searching for alternative methods before it was too late.

Bailey drug herself into the kitchen, immediately putting on some coffee for herself and her mum as well as a kettle for tea for Harry. Harry was not far behind her.

"Mornin," he yawned. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Harry, yeh don' have the fix us breakfast every mornin'," she said. "We're perfectly fine with just toast—"

"I know you say that, but I want to, really," he said. "I like to cook when it's someone who appreciated it. So, how about some crepes?"

Bailey rose an eyebrow. "You know how to fix crepes? You really are full of surprises, Po—"

She cut herself off at the tapping of an owl at the kitchen window. She opened it up and sighed when she saw that tell-tale red envelope. The Howlers and other such hate mail had been a daily occurrence since they had moved back to the farm. Apparently, the wards around Grimmauld Place had mostly kept her safe from them before.

"Best open it before Tilly comes down," Harry said in a resigned tone of voice as he gathered the ingredients for breakfast and began to mix up the batter. "Why people can't just leave you alone—"

"Because they're useless busybodies," Bailey said, viciously ripping the letter open.

 ** _"_** ** _SIRIUS BLACK WAS AND ALWAYS WILL BE A MURDERER! HIS WHORE WIFE AND WHORE DAUGHTER WILL MEET THEIR END THE SAME AS HE—"_**

"What is tha' racket?" Tilly grumbled, walking into the kitchen. Without hesitation, Bailey whipped out her wand and made the paper burst into flames. "Bailey Anne, yeh know yeh're not supposed to use magic outsi' o' Hogwarts, I don' car if yeh found a way to get 'round it!"

"Sorry, Mum," Bailey said, not sorry at all. "Yeh're up earlier than I woulds though'."

Tilly shrugged, not quite done with questioning her daughter. Luckily, the Golden Boy cut in to distract her.

"Good morning, Tilly," Harry said. "D'you like your crepes savory or sweet?"

Tilly visibly softened when she looked at her godson. "I think I'mma jus' 'ave toast and tea, Harry. I thin' I've woken up with a bug o' some sort."

Bailey frowned. "Why don' yeh go and lay back down, Mum? I'll bring it to yeh."

Tilly, somewhat dazed, nodded. "Think I'll take yeh up on tha', dear."

As soon as she left, the teens turned to look at each other.

"I'm worried about her," Harry admitted.

"She's regained and lost her husband in less than a year, been forced to move out o' two different houses, an' now is receivin' death threats. I know tha' she knows more abou' it than wha' she lets on—she's jus' humorin' us," Bailey said with a frown as she popped some bread in the toaster and poured her mother's tea. "Teh be honest, I'm worried abou' all o' us."

"Why, again, are you leaving so early?" Harry Potter asked for the umpteenth time a few days later. Bailey sighed, readjusting her robes again. She would look the part of an imposing Pureblood, even if she had fallen in power.

"Because, Potter, I need to 'ead to the bank," she said in a no-nonsense tone. Stupid little godbrothers and their stupid little questions.

"But I thought the Ministry wasn't allowing you access to the Black accounts?"

Bailey growled under her breath. Her godbrother was right, of course. The Ministry of Magic had thoroughly gone through Bailey's file, and largely due to her association with the newly-outed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy's son and status as a minor, they had decided that she was not to be given access to her inheritance until she graduated Hogwarts. It did not help that there was all sorts of suspicion being cast on the origins of the Black fortune, many claiming that they had made their fortune off of wartime profiteering during Grindelwald's reign. Complete rubbish really; the Blacks had been rich when Merlin was a twinkle in his mother's eye.

That, of course, meant little to the enemies she and her family had out there. As a result, she had no access to Grimmauld Place, her family's vaults, or any of the many privileges of being a Black for two more years. After all, she had never 'officially' been made heir.

Dumbledore, the man who had all but sent her father to his death, had sat idly by.

"The goblins don't always go by the Ministry's rules," Bailey said as she perfectly applied winged eyeliner, a feat she could not accomplish, or even cared to, only a year ago. Thank Merlin for Amelia and Mrs. Malfoy. "And besides that, there are other funds to be sorted through."

"And you don't just tell Tilly this because…?"

"Because, Harry," Bailey began, sounding thoroughly bored. "Mum has been sick enough, and she hates the goblins, but would insist on going with me. This is somethin' I need to do on me own."

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure I want to lie to her. Especially for this. I'm sure she'd understand."

 _You've never met her, have you?_ Bailey thought sarcastically.

"Look, yeh're not _technically_ lyin' to her," she said in her most convincing voice as she passed him the rest of her Chocolate Frog stash surreptitiously. He rolled his eyes at her childishness. "All you have to say is that I'm going to the joke shop to spend some time with George. If yeh can imply that I'm dressed up special an' actin' shifty—"

"—you are acting shifty," he interrupted in a surly tone.

"Good, less you'll have to manufacture," she replied happily before continuing, "If yeh can do that, that'll be even better. She'll be overjoyed that I'm actin' like a normal teenager."

"Alright," Harry replied uneasily. Bailey kissed him on the cheek.

"Love you, little brother," she said with a wink.

"I'm not little!" he retorted.

"Yeah, Harry, yeh are," she replied before stepping through the Floo. "Diagon Alley!"

Bailey stepped out into Flourish and Blotts and only just managed to keep standing as a wave of guilt washed over her. She had lied to her godbrother, in addition to getting him to lie to her mother.

But, she didn't know what else to do.

On top of not being able to gain access to her inheritance, her mother had been struggling to keep up with the bills on their farm. Time off from work in addition to a wet summer demanding that repairs be made to the roof of the barn meant that bills were stacking up.

Dumbledore's fight (damn, she hated that meddling old man) to put Harry back into the custody of his vicious relatives, without alerting the media or anyone else to the Boy-Who-Lived's new place of residence had only added to their financial burden, though Tilly had tried her hardest to keep Harry and Bailey in the dark over that aspect of it. Of course, little went on at Fleecewood or Grimmauld Place without Bailey knowing about it, especially when she was on break from school. She had become quite the eavesdropper when it suited her.

If all that was not enough to earn a person a padded room in the mental ward of St. Mungoe's, Bailey had seen the lights from wand fights out of her bedroom window for too many nights to count since she had come home. The Order of the Pheonix (meaning Dumbledore) had ignored her and her mother's pleas for more wards to be put on the house.

She had to do something. And it seemed she had but one option left

Before leaving school at the end of her fifth year, Bailey had been approached by Daphne Greengrass of all people. The other Slytherin had given Bailey a way to contact someone who would pay her well for services rendered. The same person had continued to pursue her, sending offers and gifts for over a month. Finally, Bailey had agreed to meet with him, provided that he keep the raids away from her home for a week.

He had not gone back on the promise.

So, Bailey strode purposefully through the twists and turns of Diagon Alley with her hood pulled up to avoid any ambushes by the paparazzi. She had barely been able to go anywhere in Wizarding Britain without being bombarded by Daily Prophet reporters since her father's death. She glanced both ways as she approached Knockturn Alley before quickly ducking in.

The Knocktrn Alley was at least ten degrees cooler than Diagon Alley. Bailey was thankful; her thick black robe had been suffocating. Finally, she turned into Borgin and Burke's.

"I am looking for someone," she immediately told the proprietor. He gave her a greasy smile.

"Oh? Have you lost your daddy, little girl?" the man said. Bailey lowered her hood and fixed him with her most withering stare.

"I would think twice before labeling me as some little girl to be trifled with, Mr. Burke," she said imperiously, doing her best impression of Mrs. Malfoy.

"I am most apologetic, Lady Black," he said with a deep bow. "How may I be of assistance to you, m'lady?"

Bailey glared at him. His fake deference sickened her.

"I am meeting someone very important," she said, chin pointing up proudly. "Now, I expect you know _exactly_ who I am talking about, Mr. Burke, and you know that he does not like to be kept waiting."

"Of course, of course," he simpered, his nose practically touching the floor as he bowed, "right this way, Lady Black."

Bailey followed him deep into the recesses of his store to a set of stairs, leading to his Back Parlor—essentially wizard-speak for 'super-special-secret clubhouse'. As soon as he showed her in, he quickly bowed out nervously, leaving Bailey alone in the room. Part of her felt like following him back out.

Because she wasn't alone. She was standing in the presence of the most dangerous Dark Wizard of all time.

"M'lord," she said, quickly bowing in front of him. She hadn't even dared to look at him yet.

"No need for such formalities, Lady Black," he said. "After all, I dearly hope that we will become great allies and close friends."

Bailey slowly stood up, careful to not make eye contact. "I understand you may have a job for me?"

The man chuckled, which looked strange on his pale, snake-like face. "So serious for one so young. You've struggled much over the past few months, haven't you? Before that, even. And for what? Dumbledore's greater good?"

"I did not fight at the Ministry for any reason other than to keep my family safe," she replied vehemently. She felt anger rise within her at the tears she felt trying to come. "I had made a deal with Dumbledore—and he reneged on it. Many times. He has worked against me and mine since before the first war. So now, I come to you."

"I know," he said sympathetically. "I would have fought as well for a man of the same pedigree as your father."

Bailey swallowed back the wave of grief that had threatened to overwhelm her so many times since her father's death.

"I understand where you are coming from, my dear," the Dark Lord said in softly hissing voice. "And I am willing to help you, for very little on your end. After all, anything for so fine a member of my old House. I ask only for some potions. Perhaps, if you are amenable, you could even take my Mark when you are ready."

Bailey's head was spinning. She knew that her father, her mother, her entire family—none of them would understand. She would not expect them to; she did not quite understand her own self. They would hate her and never speak to her again; maybe they would even kill her. She should leave while her soul was still her own. But, where would she go? She had run out of options.

"What potion do I start with?"

The Dark Lord smiled. "That won't be necessary quite yet. Just send me a sample of your work," he told her. Then, he pulled out a large sack that jingled in his hands. "I want you to not have to worry about a thing while you recover from your father's death. This should be more than enough to keep your farm afloat."

Bailey only just barely restrained from gaping at him. She had not even held so much gold in her entire life. "My lord—this is most generous—I—I don't know what to say. Thank you, so very much."

"Trust me, there is no need for your thanks," he said with a sinister look in his eye. But, as soon as she saw it, it was gone.

A little while later, she walked into her boyfriend's shop, her pockets far fuller than they had been. Almost immediately, George saw her from the cashier counter and rushed her, snogging her soundly in front of the entire store, causing no small number of wolf-whistles and cat calls.

"D'yeh really have to do that every time?" she said a bit breathless, grinning at him and putting on the face of happy girlfriend.

"You mean show off the fact that I have a hot, rich, and highly intelligent girlfriend—the very trifecta of a woman, if you will—to the entire world?" George replied with a boyish grin that told her that he was just teasing. "Of course I do."

Bailey shook her head, smacking him lightly on the chest as she leaned into him. She felt exhausted, ready to sleep for a millennia. George began to lightly run his hands up and down her back.

"You are crazy," she teased lightly.

"Crazy attractive, you mean," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Now, what has you in such a good mood? It's been a while," he said, concern shining through his eyes as he pulled away from her to get a good look at her. Bailey felt the beginnings of guilt in her gut, but quickly quashed it down.

"I managed to convince the bank to give me an allowance until I come o' age," she said, giving her most convincing smile.

"Really? That's brilliant!"

Bailey smiled and nodded, leaning back into his embrace, all the while wondering what would happen if he ever found out the truth. She was sure that there would be no more stolen kisses and catcalls when that day came.


	2. Mother's Instinct

**A/N: Me again! Just thought that I'd go ahead and give a few notes on this rewrite: 1. I realized that I sort of neglected George in the original, wanting to make way for *ahem* other things that oldies will know what I'm talking about. So, their relationship is much more intense and first-love-in-the-middle-of-a-war-like. 2. I'm doing my best to develop Bailey's friends more. I had realized that I had done something that irritates me-made a story about a Slytherin spend more time with Gryffindors than with their own Housemates. And 3. I made the orginal sort of just glide over the major plot points rather than get down and dirty with them, as I had a lack of time. So now, I am trying to rectify that.**

 **As proof, while the scene between Bailey and her mother is still in this chapter, there is roughly four or five more pages of material in this chapter. So enjoy!**

 _Dear Bailey,_

 _Mother and I are in Italy for the summer—spending some time in Florence with her family. Merlin, Nonna doesn't ever seem to stop cooking, no matter that she has a house-elf to do it all for her!_

 _I know that we've agreed not to talk about the Gryffindors, but I have to ask—what is it like living with The-Boy-With-The-Big-Head? Your house hasn't been redecorated to red and gold yet, has it? Or—Merlin forbid—you haven't started singing the Lions' version of Weasley is Our King?_

 _On a_ _more serious_ _heavier note, I hope you are doing alright…. With everything. My offer still stands—Mother could have you an international portkey in less than two days and you could spend the rest of summer here with me. I know you are dating_ _Weasel_ _Weasley, but really, everyone is safer outside of Britain now. And, even if all that wasn't going on, sometimes it's just good to get away._

 _So, yeah, if you need it, please let me know._

 _Always yours,_

 _Blaise Zabini_

 _Dear Blaise,_

 _Believe it or not, some people actually enjoy to cook and do other such mundane things. Careful there, you're veering into Malfoy-esque territory._

 _Without Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum, Potter really isn't horrible. Strangely enough, he is one of those people who love to cook, which Mum doesn't seem to know how to deal with. It seems to go against her very nature to allow someone else to do all the cooking, yet she can't seem to find it in her to fight it after working all day. I've been kind of worried about her—she's much more tired lately than I've ever seen her before._

 _So, in answer to your question, no I won't join you in Italy. Don't worry too much about me—I've taken appropriate measures to keep us safe here. Though Italy sounds wonderful, I have to take care of Mum._ _It's what Dad would_ _It's just what I have to do right now._

 _Write soon,_

 _Bailey_

 _P.S. We didn't agree not to talk about Gryffindors; I just threatened to curse you next time you insulted my boyfriend. You are doing much better—I commend you on it!_

Toward the end of summer, Harry went to stay with the Weasleys for a week or two, leaving Bailey and her mother together alone, as they had been for fourteen years. Unlike those years, Bailey did everything she could to avoid her mother. She threw herself into both the assignments from Professor Snape and the jobs from the Dark Lord to avoid that reality. Of course, her mother would not just leave her be.

"Jeez, Bails, this _stinks_!" she said one day as she walked into Bailey's bedroom, where she had set up her lab. "Is tha' pickled _bats_?" she asked, sounding like she was going to throw up at the thought.

"Just the wings," Bailey replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from her work.

"Bailey, wha' are yeh doin'?"

"Research."

"Yeh've been doin' 'research' for five days straight," her mother replied sharply. "Yeh've barely even ate."

"Well, research takes time," Bailey replied.

"Never woulda guessed," her mother replied with an equal amount of sarcasm. "As I remember, research is notorious for being time and money consuming?"

Bailey grunted in reply.

"Last I knew, you 'ad no access to money, which I am fairly sure yeh need fer these—I don' even know wha' tha' is!" Tilly broke off, pointing at a jar of pickled bowtruckle intestines.

"Yeh prob'ly don't wanna know."

"If yer talkin' about the jar, then yeh're probably righ'. But the money I _do_ wanna know abou'," her mother growled. Bailey continued ignoring her until suddenly there was a splash of water, a hiss and steam as the fire under her cauldron went out.

"Wha' the bleeding 'ell are yeh thinkin'? D'yeh know how much work I've put into tha'? Do yeh realize yeh coulda caused that to blow up the 'ouse?" Bailey shouted, standing up from her work table.

"Tha' would be why I aimed for the fire, not the pot," she said sarcastically. Bailey glared at her. "Now would yeh care to tell me 'ow—exactly—yeh 'ave the money fer this? An', fer tha' matter, why me collectors all o' sudden stopped callin'? I've been rather missin' their company."

"I just went to the bank, alright?" Bailey said, turning back around to try and salvage what she could of her potion. It was a mess; Professor Snape would be disgusted at the sticky goo in her cauldron. Her mother grabbed her and turned her around, holding her there by her shoulders.

"Minerva Bailey Ann, I know that's not the whole story," her mother said, searching her eyes. "I know Wizardin' inheritance like the back of me 'and—especially when it comes teh doddery ol' Pureblood families. And as long as Bella and Cissy are alive, yeh can't 'ave possibly been able teh access tha' bank until yeh turn seventeen."

"I just made a deal fer an allowance, alrigh'?" Bailey said, trying to squirm away. Her mother caught her arms by the wrists, glancing at them a lot less inconspicuously than she likely intended.

"Oh my God, Mum!" Bailey shouted, yanking away from her mother. She was shaking. "Merlin, I'm just still on good terms with Narcissa, and I knew you would never approve, alrigh'?"

Her mother gave her a long, searching look, before shaking her head sadly and leaving the room.

"I hope yeh know, yeh can always come talk teh me," her mother said quietly.

Bailey stood frozen, trying to take stock of her emotions before burying them deep, deep away and turning back to her work. She took one look as the sodden logs and the potion that was supposed to be thinner than water had turned into a nearly solid, gloopy mess, and _evanescoed_ it away before starting again.

She ignored the niggling voice in the back of her head that told her she had gotten all-too-used to lying to her mum.

 _Dear Blaise,_

 _You have got to stop offering for me to go to Italy—Mum makes it more tempting every day. I love her, and I want her to be protected, but Merlin she is nosy! Just the other day she doused my potion flames, demanding to know how I'd got the money for all the ingredients—_

"Whatcha writing?"

Bailey jumped at the sudden intrusion of her personal space. She turned and smacked her forehead into her boyfriend's almost immediately.

"George!" she exclaimed, ignoring the stinging sensation in her forehead as she crumpled the letter she had started to Blaise. "When did you get here—I had no idea you were coming!"

"That was rather the idea," he said, rubbing his forehead with a grin.

She laughed, reaching over the back of her mother's couch to kiss him, when her mother happened to walk in herself.

"I said you could see her, not snog her!"

Bailey's ears went red and she glared at her mother. "Mum!"

Tilly laughed. "Oh, don' take yerself so seriously, Bailey—yeh need teh 'ave some more fun befer yeh head back teh school. Yer godbrother is."

"Yes, an' Harry is just who we should all aspire teh be," Bailey muttered, rolling her eyes.

Her mother fixed her with a look. Though inviting George over was clearly meant to be an olive branch for her earlier accusations, that did not mean that Tilly would be accepting any disrespect from her daughter.

"Sorry, Mum. Mind if I show George the sheep?"

"But I've see—"

Bailey elbowed him in the ribcage.

"Oh, oh yeah, I love sheep. Can't get enough of them, in fact," George said, sounding suspiciously too over-exuberant about farm animals. Tilly's eyes narrowed, but she waved them off.

"Fine, off with yeh," Tilly said sarcastically. "Guess I'm makin' dinner tonight—yer godbrother has got me spoiled already…"

"Again, with Harry," Bailey muttered as she flipped over the back of the couch and caught George's hand to lead him outside.

"Don't worry, my Mum's the same," he said conspiratorially as they made their way out of the house as quickly as possible. "I guess our boy Harry just has that effect on mothers."

"No kiddin'," Bailey replied laughing.

"Now, you know that I've already seen your beloved sheep," George said as they approached the barn door.

"Do not mock the sheep," Bailey warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he soothed, taking a step closer and backing her toward the door. "But given that I don't have the vested interest that you do in ovine creatures, what will we do out here."

Smirking, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Take a wild guess, Weasley."


	3. On the Train Again

**A/N: So the first half of this chapter is NEW MATERIAL! Thought I'd go ahead and say this like I did last time for any newbies-Bailey is in an extremely dark place, and it will only get darker before it gets better. Honestly, her grieving and subsequent descent into darkness is (metaphorically) based on my own journey after losing my father to suicide two years ago, around the time that I was first writing/publishing this story. I got very dark before I saw the light again, and so will Bailey.**

 **Okay, personal stuff over**

 **This chapter also begins the semi-confusing & messy part of rewrites, so please bear with me. I will be doing my best to keep things as mess-free as possible by posting multiple chappies at a time, but it will be a process. Let me know if you see any mistakes. Thanks! **

Despite the peace offering, Bailey did her best to avoid Tilly, a task made infinitely easier once Harry returned home from the Weasleys.

"Finally," Bailey said as soon as her godbrother entered the house via fireplace. She gave him a brief hug, which both were rather awkward about. "Mum's been drivin' me up a wall."

"Where is Tilly?" he asked, looking around for her.

"At work," Bailey replied. "She's leading some sort of group therapy thing or whatever."

"Hmm," he grunted, casually lounging on the couch. "I think I may have met this year's new Defense teacher."

"Really?" Bailey replied, slightly intrigued. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Well, he seems to see students as collector's items," he said. "Dumbledore came to the Burrow and dragged me along to convince him to tea—"

"Wait—Dumbledore?" Bailey said, eyes narrowed. "Thought he was out o' the country. Him an' Remus both."

"Guess he's back," Harry shrugged as Bailey seethed. Every single one of her and her mother's owls to ask him to stop fighting Harry's new living arrangements had been sent back, leading her mother to believe that he was out of the country. But he had in fact simply been ignoring them?

"Well, innit tha' lovely," she growled. Harry gave her a weird look.

"Something got your knickers in a twist?" he asked.

"Just don't like tha' man," she said in a tone that brokered no conversation on the topic.

"Bailey, you know he didn't—"

"I'm home!" a shout came from the door. Her mother bustled in and wrapped her godbrother in a hug. "Harry, I'm so glad yeh're back!"

"Me too, Tilly," he said, hugging her just as enthusiastically. Bailey sunk back into her room, cursing Dumbledore and his blasted Order to the deepest pits of hell.

 _Dear Bailey,_

 _If you're that desperate to get out of the house, then why not just give in? Or, at least, actually accept one of Amelia's invitations. She says that she's invited you to Mikey's at least five times this summer, and you've declined every single time. I'm getting worried about you, Bails—we all are. If you're having that rough a time of it, I wish you'd let us know._

 _Lecturing moment over—apparently my mum had this Slughorn character and was in his little 'club'—the Slug Club, they used to called it. Used to be that in order to become anyone who was anyone you had to be in his club while you were in Hogwarts (or, at least, an otherwise well-connected Slytherin alum). Everyone from Gwenog Jones to Damocles Belby was in it. I know how much you of all people would love to meet the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion. I doubt that any of us will have any problems getting in. He's an old Slytherin himself, you know?_

 _Also, given his obvious disregard for you, me, and anyone not wearing red and gold with a stupid scar on his face, I'd say is high time we lead that pranking assault against Dumbledore that we've been dreaming about since the House Cup first year. You've even got an in with one of the former jesters—cheaper supplies for us!_

 _Always yours,_

 _Blaise_

 _Dear Blaise,_

 _I swear, I am okay. I guess I'm just not ready to let Mum out of my sight yet, no matter how insane she drives me. If I could get in touch with my godfather so that he could stay here for a little while with her and Harry, that would be a different story, but the man didn't even come to his own best friend's funeral. I suppose I need to explain that better to Amelia—I know I've not been a great friend this summer._

 _As for the Slug Club, do you really think he could introduce me to Damocles Belby? I tried to use Marcus—but apparently they aren't on good speaking terms or some shite like that. How one could be related to the most eminent Potions prodigy of the century and not be on speaking terms with him is beyond me. It would be such a boon to my research if I could even get five minutes with the man._

 _I would not be opposed to someone making the old coot miserable, but given that I was only just reinstated as Prefect, may not be the best decision for that person to be me. Besides, with that, my research, NEWT classes and this 'Slug Club', who has the time? (As in, you don't either, Blaise. I mean Not with quidditch and I know your Transfiguration scores from last term—you need to focus on schoolwork, my friend. This year is the beginning of the rest of our lives.)_

 _Your friend,_

 _Bailey_

The arrival of September first had never made Bailey happier. The Weasley twins, Tonks, and Uncle Rem all arrived to the farm promptly at ten a.m. to escort Bailey, her mum, and Harry to King's Cross.

"Good mornin'," George said with a grin as he tried to give her a kiss. She turned her cheek. He looked at her confused. "Somethin' wrong?"

"It's nothin' yeh need to worry abou', George," she said evasively. "Mum's just been… y'know."

"No, actually I—never mind," he began jokingly before Bailey cut him off with a sharp glare. She just barely heard him mutter something about taking lessons from his mum, but she decided to ignore him for her own sanity. Harry glanced surreptitiously between the two, mouthing something to Bailey that she promptly turned away from, choosing to link hands with her boyfriend instead.

Bailey was so good at this whole brother-sister thing.

"How are you, Minnie?" Uncle Rem asked, searching her face carefully.

"Fine," she replied curtly, making her displeasure with the man more than noticeable.

"You don't have to lie to me, Bailey, I'm your godfa—"

"Really?" she said, stopping him in his tracks. "I couldn't be sure, because my godfather, my father's best friend, would have come to his memorial service," she hissed, referring to the small tree that she, her mother, and Harry had planted in honor of her dad.

"Bailey Ann," her mother hissed, giving that infamous 'look' that all mothers seemed to possess. Harry was gaping at her.

"No, it's fine, Tilly," Uncle Rem said, staring at his shoes. "I am sorry, Bailey. Can you—"

"Whatever," Bailey snapped, letting go of George's hand before brushing past her godfather and towards the car. "I should have realized that you wouldn't care after you got your little girlfriend," she said spitefully gesturing toward Tonks, who was following after Remus like a lost puppy.

"What the hell was that? Don't you think it was a bit harsh?" Harry said as he climbed in the care behind her.

"Shut it, Potter."

"What is even with you? I went to the Weasleys for a few days and then I come back and you're all like—like— _this_."

"As moody as you, you mean?" she hissed. "I said to shut it!"

The ride to King's Cross was in complete silence after that. The only person that Bailey said goodbye to was George, and as far as that went she was simply snogging him hard enough to remind him not to find a new girlfriend while she was at school.

"See you first Hogsmeade weekend," he had said a bit dazed as she climbed on the train. She smirked at him.

"That was disgusting," a voice said behind her. She jumped and turned to see Blaise.

"Do yeh really wanna star' with me, Blaise Meredith Zabini?" she replied.

"Ouch, no need to bring out the middle name," he said. "Just… it's a Weasel."

"Just… it's my boyfriend," Bailey said, doing a little hairflip in a bad impression of Pansy Parkinson.

Blaise gave her a look before he finally couldn't hold back his laughter anymore. Somehow, despite the fights of the previous year, and not having seen each other in personall summer, Bailey and Blaise were closer than ever, with hardly a day having passed without letters or fire calls being sent between the two.

"C'mon, the rest are already in a carriage and waiting for you," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they walked to their usual compartment. She grinned at him, relaxing again.

As she walked past the Gryffindor compartment, she saw her godbrother giving her an odd look out of the corner of her eye, as though to ask "You're actually smiling?". But, she could hardly even care.

As usual, Amelia immediately attacked her with a hug as she entered the carriage, though, unlike usual, Draco deliberately turned away from her.

"Merlin, Draco, Bailey didn't _mean_ to get your father tossed into Azkaban," Blaise said with an eyeroll. "Besides, it's not as if his not being locked away hasn't ultimately benefitted you."

Draco sent a glare at Blaise, though he at least stopped staring out the window listlessly. Amelia scooched over to make room for Bailey and Blaise to sit down together, not a one of them really wanting to be next to an upset Draco. The friends sat in complete silence as the train started to chug its way out of the station. Bailey felt herself being nearly lulled to sleep as the Hogwarts Express picked up the pace, the landscape of England zooming by.

Just as Bailey had nearly drifted off to sleep, there was a loud bang as the door to the cabin opened and closed.

"What the hell?" Draco grumbled. Everyone shrugged before returning to more uncomfortable silence.

"So, off for another year!" Amelia said cheerfully, obviously trying to diffuse the tension that had built around the cabin. Diffusing awkward situations was something she had been trained to do since birth. "Only two more left!"

Draco snorted at that. "Yeah, sure, 'Melia."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bailey growled when she saw the brief look of disappointment on Amelia's face. Draco was not going to sour the entire year for her and her friends, not that year. He had not been the only one to lose someone at the Battle of the Ministry of Magic.

"I mean why do you even still care about _Charms class_ when there is something so much bigger going on here?" Draco said, sounding just as snide and rude as before.

Evidently, his father had been the one to keep Draco's Pureblood manners in check, even if it had been with an iron fist—or cane as it was.

Blaise snorted suddenly, before dissolving into rude laughter. "Yeah, Dray, because the Dark Lord will want _you_. He usually accepts little cowardly sixteen year olds into his ranks."

Bailey's blood froze, and without even meaning to, her and Draco's eyes met. Draco clutched the hem of his left sleeve, as if to ask a question, but seemed to deflate as Bailey inconspicuously gave a small shake of the head. Draco sagged against the seat, closing his eyes. It was then that Bailey noticed the dark circles under her friend's eyes, the ones that matched hers so well.

The interaction between the two was far from unnoticed even if no one commented on it. Amelia was looking between the pair nervously, on the cusp of figuring out one mystery she did not want to know. Even Blaise, Merlin love the oblivious boy, seemed suspicious of the Black cousins.

"We shouldn' even be talkin' abou' all o' this stuff," Bailey said suddenly. "It's dangerous."

"Everyone now knows for a fact that it's going on, so—"

"Blaise! I said drop it!" Bailey snarled harshly. Her friends all looked at her in concern. She felt as though her skin was crawling from all the eyes boring into her skin. Finally, not looking at any of them, Bailey muttered, "I'm going to go change," and left for the bathroom.

She immediately locked herself in when she got there and started splashing her face with water. After drying off her face with a towel, she looked into the mirror, the front of her hair sopping wet.

"I'm doin' wha' I 'ave to," she told herself sternly. "No need teh look like tha'—I'm jus' keepin' me mum safe."

Somehow, though, she couldn't quite convince herself. And that was the most dangerous part.


	4. The White Expanse

If Sirius didn't see the color white ever again, it would be too soon. Funny, James had made journeying through the Afterlife seem like a great adventure, fraught with danger and strife. He would be like Hercules, fighting off demons and monsters at every turn on his journey to save the ones he loved. Never a dull moment, constant danger and strife, a true sacrifice. But, thus far, it was none of that. There was just a flat white expanse, nothing ever changing, continuous boredom, monotonous white on and on and on and on…

Sirius Black did not do well with boredom, especially when there was no Snivellus around to hex.

Finally, in the distance he saw something, a black smudge on the white landscape. He started running towards it, ready to finally do something in this great beyond rather than simply walk… walk… walk…

When the smudge became clear, however, Sirius began to slow down. He recognized it. It was the O' Bailey home—and not the good one with the sheep grazing in the fields, pies cooling in the windows. No, this was the ancestral home of his in-laws.

He tried to stop, promising he would be content in the forever whiteness, if only he didn't have to relive this, this pain he had caused, but it was as if physics had stopped working and he was sucked inside the house, back into his ten-year-old body. He looked around and recognized where and when he had been brought to; it was the day he had received his wand. He could hear his parents in the kitchen, making plans for his betrothal to Tilly. It was the tradition in "fine Wizarding families" for a wizard to be betrothed when he received his first wand.

He wanted to stay in the dining room, the only time that he had ever wanted to be close to his parents, but that was not how that day had gone. Instead, Sirius was sucked upstairs into Tilly's room, decorated in the palest pink and white, straight out of the dreams of any good Pureblood princess. He had spent an inordinate amount of time up there before this day. He and Tilly were constantly forced upon each other by their parents, making them both the worst sort of enemies and the best sort of confidantes.

"I have a secret Siri," little eight-year-old Tilly said, just as he had remembered her saying. "I tried to play with Mummy's wand!"

"Only wizards who are ten can handle a wand, _Matylda_ ," he said, the words pouring out of his mouth with little direction from the present-day Sirius. He had been such a pompous little bastard back then. "It's the _law_. You could have burnt down the house!"

"How?" little Tilly said. "Nothing happened! I just picked it up and waved it—nothing happened."

"Nothing happened?" Sirius said, giving her the sort of superior look that only spoiled ten-year-old boys could give. "But that not right—whenever anyone magical picks up a wand _something_ happens."

"Maybe it was malfunctioning?"

Sirius tried to force himself not to do what he did next, knowing what it would lead to, but he failed miserably. He handed her his own brand-new wand for her to test out. And, just as he remembered, nothing happened as she waved it. He could feel at that moment, the complete lack of magic she possessed. The two children stared at each other for a mere moment, both knowing what was going on.

"You're a Squib!" Sirius said. Then, in a mocking chant that grew louder and louder, "you're a Squib, you're a Squib, you're a Squibby-Squib-Squib!"

"Sirius, Sirius, no! No, no I'm not!"

"You're a Squib, Squibity-Squib-Squib!"

"Well—well—you're a son of a bitch, Sirius Black!" Tilly shouted, stomping her foot in righteous anger.

"What is going on in here?"

Sirius looked up, seeing a tall, stern man with steely gray eyes frowning down at him. It had been several decades since his father had looked down that aristocratic nose at him. By the time Sirius had run away, he had outgrown his father by at least two inches and had decided that Orion Black would never again make Sirius feel so small. He was becoming better and better at making a liar of his own self.

Sirius, though his older self definitely wanted to do better, knew to do better, pointed straight at Tilly.

"She's a Squib, Father!" Sirius yelled, feeling as though he was about to split in half. He pointed an accusing finger at the little girl, who was shaking in fear. "She held my wand and she can't do any magic!"

Orion raised an eyebrow and as Sirius stared into his father's grey eyes, he saw the little girl who would grow up to be his wife cowering in fear from her parents as they raged and roared at her, until her father finally cast a hex on her, throwing her to the back of the room, possibly dead. But, once the angry and disappointed couple left the room, Sirius saw the little girl scramble up off the floor and run out the door.

Matylda O'Bailey ran and ran and ran until she couldn't run any further, finding shelter under a bridge in Dublin. She had reinvented herself there, changing from the proper Pureblood princess into the strong, street-wise woman that Sirius had come to love years later. As he watched, the little girl broke down sobbing, pulling out a formal picture that the Blacks and the O'Baileys had had done of their children a few years before.

"I hate you, Sirius Black!" she sobbed at it, crushing Sirus' heart. Then, she took the picture and ripped it into a million little pieces, allowing them to fly away in the wind.

Without warning, Sirius was pulled from the scene and found himself in Grimmauld Place. The house-elves were scurrying about as Mrs. Black screamed at them. It was the day that Sirius was going to Hogwarts and so of course, everything had to be perfect.

In the months following the revelation of Tilly's lack of magic, things in the Black household had been extremely tense. Though Sirius had consistently tormented the girl, he felt guilty when he learned that she had run away, and angry when his parents and brother had made fun of the O'Baileys for their "out-of-control little pet" and were "so glad that they had discovered her _infirmity_ before sullying the noble name of Black".

Sirius had spent his time trying to do just that.

They had, of course, immediately begun seeking out a "proper Pureblood witch" to betroth to Sirius. Being Sirius, the little boy had done everything he could to make himself undesirable to the other Pureblood families—he insulted the fathers, licked the hands of the mothers instead of kissing them when offered, farted loudly and on purpose in the middle of dinner, and expounded on the genius of Albus Dumbledore (which, granted, he knew very little about, so he simply talked of how glorious it would be to have the man's beautiful beard).

The older Sirius grinned. This was a good day in his life—the day he met his best friends, the day he became a Gryffindor, the day he finally flipped his family the proverbial bird and became himself in the process.

But, then he was sitting under the hat.

"You would do well in Slytherin, Sirius Black," it whispered in his ear. "You are not so different from your family as you'd like to believe. You revealed your wife's most dangerous secret. You allowed your best friends to be killed. You put the blame on your other best friend. You abandoned your daughter—your children actually."

As the hat was saying all of this, Sirius saw himself walking over to the green and silver table, being clapped on the back by Lucius Malfoy before being brought to the Dark Lord, given the Mark. He watched as his wand directed the Torturing Curse onto his wife, Lily, James, Remus, and finally onto Bailey and Harry. He watched as the green light from his wand snatched the breath so cruelly from all the ones that he loved most. He was able to do nothing but scream in horror as he caused their deaths, all their deaths.

Suddenly, he was back in Grimmauld Place, and his mother was towering over him, near murderous intent in her eyes.


	5. The Lion in the Dungeons

**A/N: The second half of this is new content! Enjoy!**

A week of classes had passed when Bailey received a message from a black owl.

 _Time to start earning your keep—we need a healing potion to stop tremors._

The only kind of tremors that Bailey knew of that could be stopped by a potion came after prolonged exposure to Dark Magic, be it from the casting or the receiving thereof. Bailey refused to focus too much on that bit. Instead, she simply made her way down to the dungeons where she had her own private lab set up as a researching Apprentice. She no longer had to even attend Potions classes; a good thing, too, as Slughorn had taken over the class and had already come to her hoping to recruit her, Blaise, and Amelia to his club. This snub, of course, had Draco spitting mad. His many attempts to get on the rotund man's good side had not gone well.

"Merlin's beard, you must be as good as Severus was in his day!" Slughorn had exclaimed as he looked over her records to sign off on her not taking his class. "You may even surpass him!"

Standing behind Bailey had been both Professor Snape and Draco. One had looked fairly smug, the other ready to spout fire. She had turned beet red at both reactions, before inventing some excuse about Prefect duty in order to extricate herself from the man politely. Of course, she merely went to her lab instead of patrolling the corridors, much as she had the previous year.

While gathering the ingredients to her table and begun chopping and dicing and extracting, Bailey felt a sense of calm come over her that she had not felt in a long time. A soft smile formed on her face as she did what she loved, while ignoring any niggling voices in the back of her head telling her that this was not why she did potions.

As she began to start the fire under her cauldron, she felt the overwhelming sense that someone was standing behind her. She whipped around, not caring even to extinguish the fire from the tip of her wand.

"Ah! Merlin, Minnie—" Harry said, his forearm thrown up to protect his face, already bright and blistering. Bailey sighed. "Was that Dark magic?"

"Yeh'd think," she began as she rustled about her store for some burn cream (a necessity for Potions makers), "that you'd have learned your lesson on sneakin' up on Slytherins, Potter."

Her godbrother turned an interesting shade of red and Bailey smirked.

"You, ah, heard about that, huh?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Draco pass up the chance to brag to the entire House that he broke the Chosen One's nose?" she snorted derisively at her godbrother "Please, Harry, even the first years know about it."

"I hate people calling me that."

"Get used to it. Besides, I was in that compartment too, if yeh remember," she said coldly as she not-too-gently slapped some burn cream on his arm. He winced, but amazingly kept his mouth shut. "I don't much appreciate you spyin' on me and my friends, Harry."

"I was just—well—worried," he admitted. "I saw Malfoy this summer—well him and his mother—they were going into Burgin and Burke's—"

Bailey froze for the briefest of moments, her head spinning. Did he suspect her as well? Had he alerted the Order—or worse, her mother? Why was he not attacking her if he knew? She forced herself to breathe through her nose as she wrapped his arm loosely in gauze.

"'arry, how often have yeh been correct in guessing who is and who is not a Death Eater?" she said. He open and closed his mouth for a few moments. "Tha's righ'—basically never. And besides tha', you o' all people ought to understand 'ow it feels to have no choice in what you do."

Harry began studying his feet, seeming guilty all of a sudden. Bailey forced herself not to do the same.

"So next time, let me watch over me own friends, Potter, and you keep an eye over yer own," she said. "I'm sure they're due to start snogging on the Common Room floor any day now."

Harry scrunched his nose in disgust at that. He then looked at the ingredients on the table.

"What are you making?" he said, his eyes landing rather obviously on the bottle of boggart saliva, a telltale sign of a Dark Potion. She just hoped that Harry didn't realize that. Though, she need not have worried; for being the Savior of the Wizarding World, her godbrother could be rather dim at times.

"Just a Healing Potion," she said.

"Doesn't look like any healing potion I've ever taken," he said jokingly, "and I've taken nearly all of them."

"Yes, because I am sure you can just recognize a Healing Potion in all its component parts," Bailey said, rolling her eyes.

"Of course I can!"

"No you can't."

"Yes I can!"

"If you could, then you would have been happy with yer arm in the state Lockhart left it in second year and never been able to drink tha' Skelegro," she said, smirking as he went a bit green about the gills.

The two lapsed into silence. Bailey could hear the blood pounding in her ears the longer they stood there, Harry watching her work. She was so sure that he would find her suspicious, report her to Dumbledore and she and her mum would be sentenced to life in Azkaban and—

"Are you alright, Bailey?" Harry said cautiously. "You just—well not that I know you the best—and I know obviously that you can't be completely fine after—well, you know—but you just seem—"

"I'm fine," she said in clipped tones that mirrored Professor Snape's almost perfectly.

"Just—since you went to the bank—and even before that really—you've been so tense. You and your mum both. You're the only family I've got left and I—" he didn't seem to know what to say next.

Bailey's heart clenched as she looked at him; they should have grown up together. Even after his parents died—even after her father was taken to Azkaban—they should have been brother and sister. Happy. Best friends. Mum and Dad. Brother and sister. Families whole and loving and oh-so-joyful.

But they hadn't. Because of an old man's 'greater good'. She swore then and there, that he'd have the family he deserved—that they both deserved—as soon as the war was over. They'd have Christmases, and cheesy family photos, and seats around the dinner table—all of it.

But, for now, she had to send her too-curious godbrother sniffing down a different path to keep her mum safe.

"We didn't want to let you know—I promised Mum I wouldn't—" she said, doing her best to act guilty. It wasn't hard.

"What?" Harry said. She could tell he was not happy being kept in the dark, yet again.

"There are some people—" _Dumbledore,_ she thought contemptuously _,_ "—who would see you back at your relatives. Blood is thicker than water, or some rot like that. It's the same person who kept you away from Mum—" _and Dad_ "—in the first place. We didn't want to worry you, because Mum's not gonna let it happen, if she can help it. I knew you wouldn' be happy with the secrets, but—"

Harry's jaw clenched, and without another word to her, he marched out of the room. Bailey should have felt relieved; it would likely be a few days, maybe even weeks, before he would be willing to speak to her again. That was likely the best-case scenario to keep all her secrets. But, it didn't make her hate herself any less.

"Oi! Blackwood!"

Amelia glanced up from her Divining cards—rubbish things, those. Never seemed to want to predict something good happening, always settling for awful things to come. She did her best not to show her surprise at Harry Potter trying to catch up to her in the hallway. That was unusual.

Hastily shoving the cards into her satchel, she pursed her lips and presented him with the typical 'ice princess' façade that most people outside of her friends judged her harshly for.

"Yes, Potter? Something I can help you with?" she said, raising an eyebrow elegantly.

"I—I just—I needed to talk to someone," he said, stumbling and mumbling nearly as much as Bailey had when they had first met.

 _"_ _Can't you speak like a normal person?" the little girl demanded of her roommate with her nose turned up._

 _"_ _I do speak li' a normal person," the other girl responded. "It's yeh who's actin' li' yer entertainin' the bloody queen."_

"You've never been short of admirers, Potter, surely you can speak with one of them," she said disdainfully, glancing about the library to make sure no one was watching the odd pair.

"Not about my godsister," he said.

Amelia had to admit—she was intrigued. Bailey had been all out of sorts lately—she had not visited Amelia once over the summer—and here was Potter, who had been living in the same house with her friend all summer.

And like that, she had talked herself into having a conversation with a Gryffindor. Not just a Gryffindor, though, no. She was speaking with _the_ Gryffindor, Merlin help her.

"Come," she ordered primly, leading him into a back corner, nestled between a section on the first and second goblin wars—in short, a place no one would care to go. It was a much smarter location than the broom closets she knew that Draco preference, or the empty classrooms that Bailey tended to, or—Merlin forbid—Blaise's hallway alcoves. Besides, this was technically still a public space, so she could retain her propriety as a betrothed woman.

"I'm just worried about her," Potter rambled. "She seems so moody lately—not that I've known her long or anything, which is why I'm coming to you. I just don't want anything bad to happen to her—the way bad things tend to happen around me."

Amelia was all but gaping at the boy who seemed to have much more emotional maturity than at first glance.

"I know, I sound crazy," he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "'Mione says that I need to learn to stop with the conspiracy theories and the saving-people thing—but Bailey's like my sister now, and if something—"

"No, Potter, you're not crazy," Amelia said cutting him off. "Bailey has been rather odd since—well you know. At first I just attributed it to grief, but I have a bad feeling myself."

"You don't think she's in any danger, do you?" Potter said in a tone that made him seem simultaneously so much younger and so much older than his actual age that it broke Amelia's heart. For the first time she could see the burden that had been placed on him, a boy no older than herself.

"I'm not sure, honestly," Amelia admitted truthfully, surprising even herself with the honesty. But if it could help her friend… "Last summer, Death Eaters chased her to my house, yet she still snuck out to come to the Weird Sisters concert, and the Malfoys' Yule Banquet—but this summer she refused to come over at all."

"But she was sneaking out to see George all the time this summer, so how much danger could she have been in?"

It sounded hollow, even to Amelia's ears. They looked at each other with the same fear evident in their eyes.

"You keep an eye on her at home," she said.

"And you'll keep an eye on her here," he replied. "And we'll help each other—right?"

"Right," Amelia said. "Bailey is the closest either of us has to a sister—we can trust each other to help her through this war. I suppose the friend of my friend is my ally in this instance."

"Yeah, I suppose so."


	6. The Good and the Bad

Bailey was floating in a great white expanse and she could hear someone's voice calling her name.

"Minnie! Minnie, I'm right here, I'm right—"

She could see a black smudge on the horizon, tall and graceful, running towards her with wild joy and abandon. For some strange reason, she found herself running too, her heart filled with overwhelming, reckless happiness as she ran further and further. But, no matter how fast or how far either of them ran it was as though they just could not reach each other. The white expanse between them remained just as large. She felt tears streaming out of her eyes, trailing through her hair as she ran.

"I'm nearly there, Minnie! I'll be there soon!"

"Stop lyin' to me!" Bailey found herself shouting as she came to a halt.

And all of a sudden, her eyes flew open and she was in her dormitory again. She gently touched the tips of her fingers to her cheeks and they came away damp. Bailey heaved a great sigh and rolled out of bed before making her way to the bathroom, pulling out her cosmetics and styling tools. Before this year, she had never cared too much about her appearance, preferring the extra sleep or extra potion brewing time to spending hours on make-up and hair. But, looking at her appearance in the mirror, Bailey knew that she would need the coverage of make-up if she hoped to not arouse any suspicion in her friends, who had been already been watching her closely far too closely since last year. She had even caught Amelia speaking to Harry once.

"Good morning, Black," someone said. Bailey tensed when she saw Daphne Greengrass walk into the bathroom, but she continued carefully applying her eyeliner. "Did you ever take my advice?" she asked in an entirely too-smug voice that let Bailey know that the other girl already knew the answer.

"Perhaps," Bailey said slowly, rubbing mass amounts of concealer into the bags underneath her eyes. She had not slept well in a long time, being plagued by painful dreams and horrid nightmares alike. "Perhaps not. But either way, I am not answerable to you, Greengrass."

"You know, Black, you are so high up on that hippogryff of yours, I can barely see you. If you were to fall… well, I certainly wouldn't try and catch you," she said as she began her own beauty ritual in the mirror next to Bailey's.

"And what the bleeding hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You need some allies on your side, Black, so if I were you I wouldn't be so quick to alienate everyone who tries to help me."

Bailey sighed. Greengrass was talking tactics, a language which no Slytherin could ignore.

"I am working—brewing potions—that's all," Bailey said in a low voice as she continued to apply her makeup fastidiously. "Though, currently, I am what yeh would call 'applyin' me face'."

"Lovely, Black," Greengrass said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you asked."

The two girls were silent for a few moments. Bailey felt as though her heart was about to pound out of her chest the longer that Greengrass stood there.

"Just make sure you do your job right. _He_ does not tolerate incompetence," Greengrass said before swirling out of the room.

"Remy, I'm worried," Tilly said as soon as the wizard stepped through the Floo. He raised an eyebrow at that pronouncement.

"I think you would be a fool not to be, Tils," he said, gently shaking off his worn cloak of ash. He looked even more worn than the last time she had saw him. "Everyone is worried in this war."

"Not everything is abou' the whole bloody war, Remus!" she all but shouted. The werewolf flinched.

"Tilly, you need to calm down and explain," he said, gently guiding her into her living room to sit on the couch. She threw his arm off of her. He frowned, and a flash of hurt went through his eyes. "Tilly, you need to tell me what this is all about."

Tilly practically collapsed onto the couch. "'arry's been sending me letters, ever since the beginning of school. He's worried about Bailey—and the behavior I saw out of her before the end of summer I think he may be on to something."

Remus' eyebrow furrowed. "What is Harry thinking?"

"He… he is suspicious… about her—her friends," Tilly replied, feeling more and more ashamed as she went on, "—and I… I dunno, Remus, what 'e's sayin'—'ow she was actin'—I'm a mother—worrryin' is just me job, innit? But then, when someone else thinks the same thing—"

"Tilly, even though Harry and Bailey get on well now, they and their friends especially, have been rivals for many years," Remus said logically. "The House system at Hogwarts—for all its benefits—also has its downfalls, the most notable being the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which you yourself have pointed out. They are practically brainwashed to recognize all the bad in each other and none of the good. Sirius and James were perfect examples of that."

"Rem, 'e's sayin' tha' Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater—and tha' Bailey—" Tilly broke off, unwilling to go further, not about her own daughter. She felt nauseous. "She wasn't forthcoming with me as to 'ow she got tha' money this summer, an' despite wha' she thinks, I am no' so unaware of the Wizardin' World that I don' know tha' Narcissa Malfoy 'as no influence after wha' 'appened with 'er 'usband. I've been on the receivin' end of tha' before, if yeh remember."

"Yes, Tilly, I remember," Remus said seriously. "But, do you really believe that Voldemort would accept a child of sixteen?"

"Reggie was younger than tha',"she said, her eyes brighter than usual. "And I know Draco—I've 'ad to… take care of 'im many times over the years. An' despite 'is father bein' an absolute _monster_ —the boy would do anythin' to please 'im."

"That may be true of Malfoy—but Minnie?" Remus replied. "Even if she wanted—which I doubt she does—she's a known associate of Harry Potter. Voldemort would just think of her as a spy."

"Yeh barely saw 'er this summer, Remy," she hurried on, knowing the werewolf would apologize, "an' tha's not yer fault, I know. Yeh were doin' important work fer the war. But Bailey was just so... distant, with me, with everyone, really. An' I know tha' she blames Dumbledore. Qui' frankly, I do too, but tha' s no' 'ere nor there—"

"Tilly, you have been through so much through the past year," he said, reaching across and grasping her hand. "As has Bailey. But you have to trust her. You and I both know that she would never hurt anybody."

"But she's not in her righ' mind, Remus!"

Remus was silent for a few moments, refusing to look Tilly in the eye as he seemed to mull over something. When he did look up, she felt as though his amber eyes were staring into the very depths of her soul.

"Tilly, don't hate me when I ask this, but—have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?" she said too quickly.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Tilly," he said in a warning tone. Tilly bit her lower lip.

"How could I, Remus?" she said. "My daughter is already on the cusp of becoming a Death Eater, it may just push her over the edge to know—"

"Firstly, I think we've already established that's codswallop," Remus said sagely. "Secondly, she of all people deserves to know. She probably ought to have known before me."

"You know tha' wasn' me own choice.

"Yes, I know."

"This is something that I shouldn't tell her in a letter."

"You're not wrong," Remus replied as he summoned some parchment and ink. "Lucky for you, this is Hogsmeade weekend."

Tilly frowned and then began to write. It had been too long since she had genuinely shared anything with her beloved firstborn.


	7. Masterful Accusations

**A/N-Hi everyone! So I fairly significantly changed the end of this chapter-the way I had originally wrote it just seemed too easy. Hope you enjoy! And I do love hearing from y'all-so please review!**

A few days later, Bailey received two letters, though this time it wasn't from the Dark Lord or one of his associates. One was from her mother, the other from Professor Slughorn. She sat the letter from her mother aside to see what the new Potions master had to say, hoping it would not interrupt her brewing plans too much.

"So you got one too, I see," Blaise said as he joined her at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Draco was not too far behind, obviously disgruntled about something. Bailey didn't think that she had seen her cousin in a good mood since the term had begun, though she couldn't say much; she hadn't been exactly chipper herself.

"One what?"

"An invitation from one Horace Slughorn to join the _Slug_ _Club_."

"Hmm," Bailey said, frowning. She still did not understand the man's agenda in inviting her—the daughter of the recently-cleared mass-murderer Sirius Black. She knew for a fact that there were plenty who still did not believe his innocence, people in both high and low places. She had hidden enough hate mail from her mother over the summer to realize that.

"So are you going?"

"Going where?"

"To the North Pole," Draco drawled, somewhat more viciously than his usual snide remarks. "Honestly, Black, how much of an effect have those Gryffindorks had on your intelligence levels?"

"No more than I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle must have had on yours," Bailey snarked back, before turning to Blaise. "And to answer your question, I'm not sure."

"You do realize how much a Slughorn stamp of approval can do for your career," Blaise said.

Bailey narrowed her eyes; both of them knew that neither would need any help in their careers. He had the connections, and well she… she had the talent.

"Has Hestia Carrow been invited?"

Blaise shifted in his seat. "Yes."

"And?" Bailey prompted.

"And she wants me to escort her to the party," Blaise all but growled. Bailey just barely held in her laughter at his misfortune. "So I was _hoping_ you would allow me to escort you instead."

"You realize I have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," he said, gritting his teeth.

"And that he won't be happy with this?"

"Yes."

"So you know that you'll owe me?"

"Yes!" Blaise almost shouted. Professor Snape sent him a glare from the Head Table. Their dear Head of House was not much of a morning person.

"Then l suppose you may have the privilege of escorting me," Bailey sighed. Blaise glared at her.

"Thank you for your graciousness, your highness," he replied scathingly. Bailey bowed her head towards him before picking up the letter from her mother.

 _Bailey, we need to talk in person. Your Uncle Rem will be bringing me up to Hogsmeade to see his new apartment, if perhaps you'd like to join us for tea your next Hogsmeade weekend?_

 _All my love, Mum_

 _Real subtle, Mum,_ Bailey thought to herself whilst rolling her eyes before stuffing the letter into the recesses of her bag. She would have deal with her mother later. For now, she had to meet with her Potions mentor for the first time this term. She wasn't quite sure what he would be expecting from her now that he was no longer the schools Potions Master. Would she have to switch to Defense Against the Dark Arts? She hoped not, though that would be far preferable to the alternative—becoming Slughorn's apprentice. She would much rather remain under Professor Snape's tutelage.

"Professor Snape?" she called as she knocked on his office door.

"Enter," he intoned, laying aside a stack of papers he was already grading. "Ms. Black, take a seat."

Bailey sat down cautiously, somewhat nervous. She did not even dare begin with small talk, knowing how much her teacher despised it. Instead, she jumped right in. "Sir, may I ask—"

"How my new appointment as Defense Against the Dark Arts Master will be affecting your Apprenticeship?" he finished, raising an eyebrow. "In short—however you wish it. That is part of what I wished to speak of with you today. You have several paths from which to choose."

Bailey nodded, waiting for her mentor to go on. He shuffled through some more papers. She recognized them as her own personal record.

"While your marks in Defense last year were abysmal, that was largely the fault of an abysmal teacher," he said, disgust dripping from his voice. "Despite that, you still managed an O on your OWL last year, and your performance in your previous years here, you would make a suitable candidate for a Defense Apprentice. Given your… _godbrother's_ penchant for dragging those around him into reckless and life-endangering misdeeds, I would even say such a route would be useful to you. However, you and I both know your passion and gift lie with Potions."

Bailey nodded, her mind drifting to her third year, when she had first approached Professor Snape about the Apprenticeship.

 _"_ _Sir?" the timid girl said, knocking on her Head of House's open door. He was sitting at his desk, marking up essays. When he saw the young member of his House, he stood quickly, opening the door to allow her in._

 _"_ _Ms. O'Bailey," he began in a stern voice, though not quite as stern as he might have used for someone outside of his House. "I have already told you, it was Longbottom's fault that the cauldron exploded. If you had not been partnered with him, then the consequences of his folly would have been far worse—"_

 _"_ _Tha's not why I'm 'ere, sir," she said quickly, as though she was afraid of losing her nerve. "At least no' completely."_

 _He motioned for her to continue. She took a deep breath._

 _"_ _I like Potions," she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow at her. She took another deep breath. "I mean—I really enjoy it, sir. I know tha' it's wha' I wanna do with me life—fer the rest o' me life. An' I've been doin' some readin', an' I read tha' in order to be a great Potioneer, well—yeh need a Master."_

 _"_ _Yes, I am well aware, Ms. O' Bailey," he said in a somewhat bored tone._

 _"_ _Well, yeh see, I know it's wha' I wanna do, an' way back they used to take Apprentices when they were abou' me own age, an' well, yer the best Potions Master o' the century—"_

 _"_ _Ms. O'Bailey, not to be rude, but—"_

 _"_ _Righ', sir, righ', get on with it," she said, nodding seriously. She was shaking from nerves. "I was wonderin'—hopin'—I mean, I'd be honored if yeh would consider makin' me yer Apprentice."_

 _Professor Snape looked stunned for a few moments. Bailey felt like sinking into the floor, worried she had made a huge mistake in asking him for this. She would have to spend the next five years at Hogwarts walking around with a paper bag on her head to avoid the shame of having made a complete and utter fool of herself…_

 _"_ _You understand the rigor of an Apprenticeship would far exceed what you have been learning in my classes so far?" he said, snapping herself out of her thoughts._

 _"_ _Yes, sir. I really 'ope it is," she said. At his raised eyebrow she added, "sir. No offense meant, yer classes 'ave been great, but I—"_

 _He interrupted her rambling before she could make a fool of herself._

 _"_ _You also understand that I would greatly increase my expectations of you," he said. "As my Apprentice, you would be a representative of myself in the world. You would need to learn how to behave with even more decorum and grace than you currently possess—even more so than your friends possess."_

 _"_ _Yes, sir," she said, straightening her posture and trying her best to mask her accent with a more posh sounding one. There was a flicker of amusement in her teacher's eyes as he studied her._

 _"_ _Even so, I do not think that you are ready for an Apprenticeship," he said._

 _She felt as though someone had just stabbed her in the gut, and all her dreams were bleeding out around her. She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a finger._

 _"_ _Yet."_

"You, of course, could continue your Potions Apprenticeship with the new resident Potions Master, Professor Slughorn," he continued, shuffling around in the papers on his desk. "I had presumed that that would be the case, so I have already contacted the Guild and have the necessary paperwork to switch you over to his mentorship—"

"Sir, if I may," she said, cutting him off. "Could I continue studying Potions under you?"

He seemed surprised for a few moments, just as he had been all those years ago. She felt her heart pounding, ready to explode like that innocent little third year.

"I suppose that would be… suitable," he said slowly. "If you are sure?"

"Yes, I am sure, sir."

"Well, then, now that that is settled," he said, clearing his throat. "I have seen you've already been making use of your lab this term?"

Bailey's heartbeat quickened for a second time that day, though for a far worse reason. Snape didn't know, did he? She may have dug her own grave remaining his Apprentice. He was quick, he was a spy; if anyone could figure out her secret then it was Severus Snape.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Mostly for a few pain potions… Draco did not have the best of summers. I used me own ingredients though"

She thought she saw the slightest glimmer of sympathy in Professor Snape's eyes as he nodded, but she couldn't be sure; his sympathy wasn't completely out of the range of possibility—Draco was his godson. There was enough surety that she was able to relax fractionally.

"That was not necessary. Especially in the aid of another student, you know that you need not dip into your own stores. And you should not have, given your current financial situation," he said, studying her as though she was a specimen in a jar.

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"And how comes your Wolfsbane research?"

"Slowly."

"And yet you still do not wish to choose something less ambitious?"

"O' course not," she scoffed.

Snape smirked proudly, the expression making him seem more human. "And the wolf? Is he still acquiescent to your experiments?"

"Not as much this summer. He has been… away," she said, giving him a look rather than saying out loud where Remus had been this summer. All of the Order knew that Remus had been trying (and failing) to earn the allegiance of the werewolves. Bailey found the fact that Remus, of all people, had gone to do that especially ineffective, given that Dumbledore had not managed to allow him to keep his job any more than any other werewolf. With such an example of loyalty, what sane werewolf would want to work for Dumbledore?

"Ah," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

He studied Bailey carefully, making her feel as though she were a specimen in one of his jars. After a few minutes, she began to feel something inside of her head… a presence of some sort. Without a second thought, she completely shut down all feelings, thoughts, memories. Snape grunted as though in pain, then looked at her in no small amount of shock.

"Master?" she said, trying to lock down her anger. He didn't say anything. "If you don't think I know what Legilimency is, you are mistaken," she said coldly even as she fought off tears.

"Miss Black—"

"I have Prefect duties," she said, trying to reign in her anger, striding towards the door. Professor Snape seemed to regain some presence of mind, for before she reached the exit, the door had slammed shut and locked itself.

"Miss Black, sit." She did not turn around, knowing that her face would give her away. " _Now_."

She grudgingly took a seat.

"You have no right to go through my mind, Master," she said, not looking him in the eye. She would not give him that opportunity.

"Despite what you may believe, as your Master I have every right to do what I just did, especially when you as my apprentice have been exhibiting… worrisome behavior. Your mother has written me in concern, as have your Housemates. Now, is there anything you see fit to share?" he said sharply.

"No, Master," she said through gritted teeth.

"Do not lie to me."

"There is nothing I see fit to share with you, Master," she growled in a far more disrespectful tone than she had ever dared with him. "You forget whose daughter I am; I know your past actions well enough to know that I am deserving of far less than you." Even as she said the words, she was trying to pull them back into her mouth.

Professor Snape looked murderous. She bowed her head in deference to him.

"What is wrong with you?" he snarled. "Do you truly wish to remain my Apprentice?"

"Please, sir, forgive me," she said, thinking up another version of the truth that would please him. "I—I was making Dreamless Sleep. For myself. I know the risks—but I can't get sleep without it. I have nightmares, every night," she said in a low voice. "I jus' don' want to keep seein' it."

She risked a glance at her Potions Master, who had his lips pursed. She had been into his private stores and labs often enough to recognize that he had the same problem. Finally, he gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I will have to put restrictions in place on your brewing, you realize," he said tiredly. She tensed, but nodded. He sighed again before standing up and moving to in front of his desk until he was standing right in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder; she flinched.

"Foolish girl," he murmured, shaking his head. "Don't you realize you could get yourself killed?"

"Please, Master," she croaked in a hoarse voice. "Don' tell me mum. It'll jus' worry her."

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. Somehow, she knew then that he wasn't speaking of potions. He knew. He knew what she had done. But, unlike Dumbledore, Severus Snape was a man of his word. He would keep his promise, and do what he could to help her. She had never been more thankful for that day when he offered her his Apprenticeship. She could not have found a better Master.


	8. Of Nightmares and Brides

Sirius quivered in fear before his mother, feeling not at all like the brave Gryffindor he was supposed to be. He could not stand this feeling of being so young and helpless, unable to do a thing to get himself out of this mess.

"You dare bring this wretch back into our house?" she roared, pulling a sobbing Tilly out from behind her. Sirius could tell that his mother had already subjected her to more than just harsh words. Tilly was covered in cuts and bruises and her lively blue eyes were deadened and haunted. "This—this—brat who has brought dishonor on her family by being _born_ and then again by running away as though they were criminals—and _you bring her into my home_!"

"Siri—Siri—please help me!" Tilly begged, looking so small and helpless in her bedraggled dress. In response, Sirius' mother tightened her grasp on Tilly's arm, making the young girl cry out in pain. Sirius felt like crying out with her, feeling as though his own arm had been ripped off.

"Shush, girl," Walberga hissed between clenched teeth, twisiting Tilly's arm harder and harder. "You are lucky I didn't kill you on sight for trespassing, as I'd be well within my rights to!"

Sirius flinched as he heard the unmistakable crack of bones snapping, his heart pounding in his ears as he saw his beloved fall to the ground in pain. He watched, aghast, as she looked up at him, tears flooding her beautiful blue eyes. His heart broke to see her like that, but he stood, frozen in fear.

Before his eyes, the room spun around, and he changed into a grown man in a tux, Tilly into a beautiful woman in a white dress, but he was just as helpless as before. His mother remained the same hateful woman she had always been, but now she was holding a knife to Tilly's neck. A stream of blood made its way down his bride's pale neck and stained her beautiful white dress.

"Siri, please," she begged.

"Stop," Sirius cried. "STOP! Please, Mother, please, I beg of you! Don't do this! _I love her!_ "

But Walburga Black merely cackled evilly at her son's pleading, and pushed the blade harder against Tilly's skin, causing more blood to flow down from the wound. Tilly whimpered in pain and fear. Without thinking, Sirius lunged at his mother, knocking her away from his beloved. He stuck his wand at her throat even as he felt the blade being nestled between his ribs. He let out a gasp of pain and his mother's eyes twinkled with a merry insanity.

"Never—touch—my—wife—again—" he hissed. _"Avada kedavra!_ "

And the merry light died.

Sirius groaned, clutching his side, as Tilly rushed to him, tears still pouring.

"No, no, lay down, love," she whispers, laying his head on her lap gently. Blood flows from his wound, marring her dress.

"But—but—your gown," he croaks, watching in some strange fascination as a red circle grows larger on her snow white skirts. She gives a watery laugh at his bewildered concern.

"It is already stained, my love," she says, wiping a few strands of hair behind his ear. "There isn' much to stop tha'. Now, yeh must stay awake. If yeh don', we'll never see each other again. Yeh know tha', righ'?"

"I know that there is nothing that could stop me from seeing you again, Tilly. Not my mother, not dementors, least of all Death." He raises his shaking hand to stroke her face, her skin as soft as the day he first married her. That happy time was but a far off dream to him now.

She grins, eyes full of tears, stroking his hair away from his face. "Always the charmer, yeh are, Siri."

He smiles, grabbing hold of her hand and placing a bloody kiss on it. "You know me."

The scene shifts. He feels his chest, and he is no longer injured.

"Daddy!" his daughter appears in front of him, eyes wild and red, uniform in complete disarray. "Please, don't leave me! Not jus' after we met. You promised you wouldn' leave me again."

He winces in pain that has nothing to do with his mother.

"I am so sorry, Minnie," he says, meaning the words more than he meant any apology he had given in life. "I am coming, I swear to you. I will be there for you. You aren't alone."

"Daddy, please," she cries out, falling to her knees, sobbing just as her mother had been. "Please come. It's dark. It's dark and I'm so scared. I'm all alone here. You promised—you promised you wouldn't leave me again!"

"I'm coming Minnie, I swear it!" he yells, beginning to run towards her. The distance between the father and his daughter becomes a thousand miles, almost impossible to breach. She is but a small smudge on the horizon

"Daddy, Daddy, please! It's dark, and the monsters are after me!" she yells back, each word wounding him like his mother's knife entering his chest again. "Save me! Please, Daddy! I can't do this!"

"I'm coming, Minnie! Hold on!"

"Save me!"

"Hold on!"

His daughter doesn't ask him to save her a third time. The third time, she gives a bloodcurdling scream.

"It's got me!"

Sirius isn't sure why, but he believes her. He stops trying to reach her for the moment and weeps.


	9. News

**A/N: So I added a couple of letters between Bailey and George at the beginning of this chapter, but it's mostly unchanged. Also, there is still the previous language warning in place-still warranted, I believe.**

 _Dear George,_

 _Good news—Professor Snape will still be my Potions mentor! Why was that a worry? Well, it seems Dumbledore finally got his head out of his arse and gave Snape the DADA position. Why he didn't do that last year so that Umbridge would have been unnecessary I still don't understand. Certainly would have spared me a lot of grief._

 _Our first Hogsmeade weekend is coming up—I assume you'll come? I'm supposed to see my godfather's new flat and have lunch with him and Mum, but I'm free afterwards. Even managed to pawn off my Prefect duties onto a fifth-year Hufflepuff. The best use of a batch of Boil Cure that I can think of. (And, despite the assumptions of our Head Girl, I did not cause said boils in order to get out of Hogsmeade duties. Though, that is a brilliant plan, if I do say so myself.)_

 _You and Fred really need to get on that Hogsmeade branch. I miss_ _seeing you_ _going to the shop everyday._

 _Love_ _Sincerely_ _Bollucks_ _–Bailey_

 _Dear Bails,_

 _I don't quite understand how that is good news, but I am happy for you. If Snape's teaching DADA, then who is teaching potions? Surely he has a sunnier disposition. Though I personally question Dumbledore's sanity in letting the bat around children, I will concede even Snape is better than the Pink Menace._

 _As for Hogsmeade weekend, just try and keep me away. The shop has missed you too._

 _Your Snogging Buddy,_

 _George_

Uncle Rem's new flat was quite nice, Bailey had to admit, even if it was over the Hog's Head.

"Bailey! I nearly thought you'd gotten lost!" he said as he opened the door to let her in. She smiled at him as much as she could; after the meeting with Professor Snape, she had not got much sleep for the rest of the week. "Come in, you look like you're about to fall over. Your NEWT classes not treating you well?"

Bailey sighed, wishing that she had had more energy to cast the necessary glamours to prevent her godfather and mother from worrying. She had lost a bit of weight as the school year had progressed, finding her appetite to be elusive and sleep even harder to come by. As it was, she had only done the usual beauty charms and make up that Amelia had been trying so long to drill into her head.

"You know how it is, Uncle Rem," she shrugged, choosing to gloss over their last encounter as he seemed to be doing. "I love the new flat. It's about time that Dumbledore repay you for your hard work," she said, trying to take the attention off of herself.

Uncle Rem's friendly smile faltered for a brief moment, but he soon had it plastered back on. It was strange how quickly their little family had learned to hide things from each other.

"Remy, is tha'—Bailey!" her mother exclaimed happily. Bailey shifted uncomfortably under her mother's thoughtful gaze. "Yeh look like yeh've lost weight—'ave they no' been feedin' yeh properly up at tha' school?"

Bailey didn't reply to her mother's question (partly because all she could think to say was, "It's obvious _you've_ not lost weight."), but merely said, "Good to see you too, Mum."

Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh, and, at a look from Uncle Rem, went over to Bailey and put an arm around her, leading her to the little dining table in Uncle Rem's kitchen. Bailey nearly went in to give her mother a hug, but Tilly very carefully avoided her daughter's embrace. The Slytherin was almost too curious to be hurt by her mother's actions. Almost.

"Shall I fix some tea?" Uncle Rem said in the uncomfortable silence.

"Why do I get the feelin' we're going to need somethin' stronger?" Bailey said, only half joking.

"I wish," she just barely heard her mother mutter under her breath. Uncle Rem laughed awkwardly. Neither woman joined in.

"I'll get the kettle on," he said.

"So, how is school going?" her mother asked after another moment of silence. "Anything fun going on?"

Bailey nearly smiled; she had almost forgotten how simple and happy life had once been with her mother, all up until the day that she had been attacked and drug away by an overlarge stray…

 _"_ _What are you doing with me?" the young girl snarled as the ragged man blocked her escape. "I am friends with powerful people—soon to be Apprentice to Severus Snape 'imself—they will find me and you will be thrown back to the Dementors where you belong!"_

 _"_ _Minnie, just listen to me, you don't know who I am—" the man began, advancing towards her. He had his arms outstretched, as though he wished to cuddle her up into a bear hug or some rubbish like that._

 _"_ _I know who you are," she snarled, pulling her wand. She would have to stop simply researching Potions and start learning some more hexes and jinxes when she got back to school. If she got back to school. "And I know who you once were. But, Merlin above, I will not accept a murderer for a father!"_

Bailey shook herself away from the painful memories.

"I've been asked to join a club by the new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn," she said. Uncle Rem gave a chuckle from the stove.

"I should have known that he would start up the Slug Club again. He asked your father and uncle both to join practically the night that they were Sorted. I assume you've been invited to some sort of fancy catered party?"

Bailey felt a small pang in her chest, but ignored it.

"Yes, an' Blaise is escortin' me to the party." Her mother raised an eyebrow at that.

"Blaise?" she said. "But wha' about George? Aren't yeh two still datin', or 'ave yeh not been sendin' enough letters to yer poor, uninformed Mum?"

"Of course me an' George are still together!" Bailey exclaimed, going a bit red. "Me an' Blaise are goin' as friends."

"Does Blaise know tha'?" her mother replied, the smirk evident in her voice.

"O' course!" Bailey said. "He is just tryin' to avoid goin' with Hestia Carrow, and I feel sorry for the poor sap."

"Oh, I'm sure tha's all," her mum scoffed, a teasing twinkle in her eye. "It's only tha' the bye 'as been in love with yeh since yeh were twelve years—"

"Tilly, leave the poor girl alone," Remus said chuckling, placing tea cups in front of them and pouring the hot water over them. "It's not as if Mr. Zabini has proposed to her. Yet."

"Uncle Rem!" Bailey practically shouted, just barely restraining her desire to toss the tea all over her dear godfather. Uncle Rem, for his part, just chuckled.

"I'm only taking the mickey, Minnie," he replied gently.

"I'm no', I'm bein' totally serious."

The room went silent, all but waiting for the obnoxious pun to be made, but it didn't come. It would not come any more.

"Well," Remus said before standing awkwardly. Bailey tried not to watch as the man reached for his handkerchief. "I have some owls to send, so I must be leaving you ladies alone. There are biscuits in the cupboard, make yourselves at home."

He then gave her mother a meaningful look—to which her mother pursed her lips in an angry expression—and made his exit.

"What was tha' abou'?" Bailey asked suspiciously. She had a sinking feeling that her mother and Remus meant to have some type of intervention with her. Had Snape told them about the Dreamless Sleep?

Or had he told them something worse?

Her mother sighed heavily. "Remus and I both have noticed just how hard you have taken your father's death."

Bailey narrowed her eyes. "I believe we've had this conversation, Mum, many times. And, again, I promise yeh I am _fine_. It's not as if yeh're peaches an' cream."

"Bailey, this—"

"I mean, Merlin, Mum, don' yeh trust me? Or did Da—"

"—is not what yeh—"

"—turn yeh completely against me House? I'm not evil—"

"—think it is if yeh'd just listen for a moment—"

"—and I'd like the think tha' me mother of all people—"

"Minerva Bailey Ann, _shut up_!" her mother shouted suddenly, standing up. Her cup of tea lurched dangerously toward the floor.

Bailey was quiet.

"Now, if yeh'd just listen teh me, yeh'd've realized I didn' come 'ere to accuse yeh!" her mother continued, getting somewhat red in the face from frustration. "I'd like the think that yeh'd have a little more faith in _me_."

Bailey avoided her mother's sharp gaze. "Sorry, Mum," she muttered.

"Alrigh', now, can yeh keep calm?"

Bailey nodded, her sense of foreboding growing every passing second.

"Good. Let's see if I can," her mother added to herself, brushing off non-existent crumbs before sitting down. Her prim posture reminded Bailey of Narcissa Malfoy very suddenly.

Bailey sat and listened to what her mother had to say. But, she did not remain calm, far from it. As soon as her mother said those fateful words, Bailey was up and out of her chair, all but running for the door. She had to get back to the castle. She was not stopped by her mother's cries, nor was she stopped by her godfather's yells. She was not even stopped when Blaise, concerned by the look of pure panic on her face, tried to grab her on the streets.

She had to act.

Now, Bailey had not necessarily ever been known as a particularly powerful witch, though she was also not a weak one. Clever? Yes. Formidable? Certainly. But, powerful enough to blow past the gargoyle at Dumbledore's office as though it were naught but a teddy bear? Not really.

Of course, that was before she had a cause to do so.

"Password?"

"Outta me fucking way, yeh bloody canary," Bailey growled.

"I cannot allow admittance without—"

"I said, outta me way!" Bailey all but screamed. And, with a mighty wave of her hand, not even bothering with her wand, the gargoyle was thrown forcibly away and Bailey marched unimpeded to the Headmaster's office.

"Headmaster," she said in a scarily calm voice as she opened the door. The man looked far too unsurprised.

"Miss Black," he said, looking over his half-moon glasses. "Was it truly necessary to treat poor Bob like that?"

Bailey simply glared at him. He sighed and sat behind his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat as well.

She remained standing.

"You ignored my owls all summer, Headmaster, but I found a way teh survive—I'm sure despite yer best efforts to further isolate me godbrother. But, now? Now I'm here and you can ignore me no longer," she said in a voice of controlled calm, masking the storm roiling in her chest.

"M'dear, I want nothing but the best for all of my students, but I simply do not have the powe—"

"You and I know damn well tha' yeh do," she said. "If you wanted to, you could sway the Ministry to my side. You could rewrite the wards on Grimmauld Place. You could quit trying to take Harry from my mother. _You could have protected my father._ But, you did not want to. Do you deny it?"

He was silent.

"I thought not," she said, a sneering tone entering her voice, sounding particularly like her mentor. "Now, there is more on the line. Mum is—mum is—well, it's no longer just us. So, will you help us into Grimmauld Place, or will you sacrifice her new baby like you did our father for your greater good? Hell, if it helps, it may just be a Gryffindor one day. I'll make sure of it, if I have to."

For once, Dumbledore seemed to be rendered speechless. He looked down at his cursed hand, as though that would give him answers, but, of course, it gave him none.

"I am sorry, dear girl," he said slowly. "I promise to you, if I could do something for your family, I swear to you, I would. But, I simply do not possess that power."

Unbidden, Bailey felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. She quickly quashed them down. She had to remain strong. She had to do this. She would not—could not—let her family down. Not when there was so much more on the line now. She would go through each and every back up plan that she had made, no matter how low she had to sink, to keep her family safe or die trying. She did not care if she lost her soul in the process; what good was that if she was left all alone?

"Just as you swore to keep my father safe, right?" she snarled. "You will live to regret this, old man."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked back out the door, not noticing as the Headmaster immediately walked to the fireplace and threw down some Floo powder, calling the one man who could possibly be her salvation.

Slytherins were known for being ruthless, for doing what needed to be done. No matter the cost, they and theirs would survive to the end of the day. Petty morals, "greater goods", were not near as important as the ones that they were loyal to. After all, a true Slytherin was only ever on one side: their own.

To the world, Bailey would be cold, unaffected by her misdeeds, never wavering in her quest for survival and success.

But the world was never right.


	10. Ghosts of Past ad Present

**A/N: Another from Sirius' POV. Keep in mind, what Sirius sees while in the Land of the Dead may or may not have a factual base in reality. I'll never tell which is which. All belongs to JKR (if you recognize it). Please Read and Review!**

Sirius was not sure quite how long he had been traveling, how many horrors he had seen, how many injuries suffered. He only knew that he quite regretted not appreciating the white expanse of before and prayed to whatever deities might exist that he would soon be out, soon be able to help his daughter, rather than having to watch her death a million different horrifying ways.

He was confused, though, coming upon a place that he did not recognize from when he was still living. All the other tortures had happened within the realm of his memories. Then he saw her, a little older than he had last, her face a little more worn.

"I've made it out," Sirius murmured to himself. "I'VE MADE IT OUT!" he shouted joyously before breaking into a full run to his daughter, ready to hold onto her and never let go. He held out his arms for embrace, elated to feel his daughter close to him again—

He passed through her like smoke.

Sirius deflated, disappointment flooding through him. He looked at his daughter, the perfect mixture of her mother's smile, his confidence, his family's aristocratic looks. But, she wasn't smiling then. Her hazel eyes, usually so full of life, of warmth, were unrecognizable. Cold. Hard. Dead.

For not the first time, and certainly not the last, Sirius was struck by how much his daughter reminded him of his brother, and was deeply troubled by it.

"Bailey, please, snap out of it," he begged, though he knew she couldn't hear it. "Snap out of it and talk to me!"

"He will see you now," a hooded man said from behind, making Sirius jump. No matter how he tried, Bailey followed the man into layers and layer of darkness, as though her father was not there at all. Which, of course, he wasn't.

"I did not expect to see you again so soon, Lady Black," a high-pitched voice said. Sirius could not see where it was coming from. "Was our previous deal not amenable to you?"

Sirius would never unsee his once proud daughter kneeling before the owner of the voice, kissing its feet.

"It was most gracious, my lord," she said in a low, numb voice. "But, there has been a new… development. I come to ask for more. More than gold and protection."

"And what would that be, child?"

"Revenge."

Sirius felt his blood run cold.

The owner of the voice chuckled. "That comes at no small price, my dear. Are you ready to settle up?"

His daughter was silent, and Sirius nearly cheered, believing that she would leave, she still had time, she could still leave—

Then she offered up her left arm.

"Bailey, no, please—you've no idea what you're doing!" Sirius shouted frantically, forgetting that she could not hear him, that he was unable to grab her and take her forcibly away from this place and scream at her until she saw reason. "Get Dumbledore, get Remus—something!"

"I no longer place my faith in Dumbledore or his lackeys. It is time for me to take my rightful place in this world, and in this war."

Sirius watched in horror as his daughter rolled her sleeve up, revealing milky, unblemished skin. A horribly pale wand pressed into her arm, and, as Sirius watched, inky black seeped into his daughter's arm, leaving behind a Mark, a Mark of a skull and a snake, writhing evilly on his daughter's left wrist. As he watched, Minnie's face shifted into the faces of friends from his early childhodd—Avery, Nott, Bellatrix, Wormtail, and finally, his little brother.

"You could have stopped this!" his brother said in a dangerously low hiss. "If only you hadn't been so selfish, so stupid, this wouldn't have happened. None of us would have had to turn. It's all you fault!"

"No—Reg—I didn't—I—"

All of a sudden, he was surrounded by the ones he had once loved, ones he loved still, all in black Death Eater robes and white masks. Only now, they could touch him, and he them. Avery, Nott, Wormtail, Bella, Reg, and Minnie. His precious Minnie. They were closing in on him, all of them chanting.

"All you fault! _All your fault!_ "

"No, no, I swear, please!" Sirius shouted, appalled with himself for the hot tears he felt streaming down his face. He prayed one of them would have mercy, though he deserved none. And, none of them did have mercy on him. Sirius stepped back in fear.

And was again, he found himself in the bright white expanse.

"Ah, big brother! I was wondering when you would finally come to see me!"

Sirius turned around, and almost fainted in shock. It was Regulus. Moreover, it was Regulus smiling.


	11. The Slug Club

**A/N: So here's a little break from the darkness most of the chapters have had. A little more humor, a little romance, and some comfort all in one fluffy package. More likely than not, the next few chapters are going to return Bailey to a more schoolgirl type worries for a little while. But, don't get too comfortable. There is still a war going on, with Bailey smack dab in the middle of two opposing forces.**

"Are you sure that dress isn't too casual?" Amelia said as Bailey twisted and turned in front of the mirror. That night was Slughorn's first "little dinner party" for his Slug Club.

"The only reason you think that is because it's not floor-length," Bailey said in a scoffing tone. She was wearing a knee-length black dress with one long sleeve clinging tight to her left arm. It was sparkly and sleek, and overall not really Amelia's style. But, Bailey did not necessarily want to draw attention to herself by looking like a "pretty, pretty princess" in something with bounce and frills like Amelia would have put her in.

"Well, at least borrow some of my jewelry," Amelia said, pulling a few pieces from her jewelry box. She motioned for Bailey to move her long hair out of the way and clasped a silver chain necklace with an opal stone pendant around her neck before handing her a pair of matching earrings. "Now, are you _certain_ I can't lend you one of my dresses?"

"Yes, 'Melia," Bailey sighed exasperatedly. Amelia held up her hands as if in defense.

"Alright, just checking," Amelia said, then took in Bailey's full reflection in the mirror. "Wow, Blaise will have a hard time keeping his hands to himself tonight."

Bailey felt her face heat up. _Of course, I can lie straight-faced to Mum about where I've been, but one little comment…_ she shook her head at herself before turning to her friend.

"Firstly, I am not tryin' to accomplish tha', I 'ave a boyfriend," Bailey said. "Secondly, I 'ighly doubt Blaise thinks o' me like tha', an' if 'e did—"

"Firstly, diction Minerva Bailey Ann. I worked too hard on you for you to forget my lessons at a little embarrassment," Amelia said, cutting her off with a twinkle in her eye. "And secondly, I do believe Blaise has thought that way about you ever since your Petrification second year... he was so lost without you… and then at the Yule Ball, in that dress… and then at the Malfoys' last year, and you danced and danced…"

Bailey threw a pillow at Amelia's head, while the redhead continued to cackle.

"Oh look at the time, I have to go. So sorry we can't continue discussing your delusions," Bailey said as sarcastically as she possibly could.

Amelia, still giggling, followed behind Bailey as she made her way down the stairs and to the Common Room. Blaise was waiting for her at the entrance to the girls' dorms. His eyes seemed to widen for a moment before being schooled beneath a mask of Slytherin suaveness (of course, this just made Amelia giggle all the more).

"You look wonderful, though I must ask, did you slip something in Amelia's pumpkin juice?" he said, taking in their friend.

"No, the incest in her family tree has finally caught up with her and sent her down the path to insanity," Bailey replied dryly. She felt a sharp kick from Amelia, while Blaise let out a very un-gentlemanly snort of laughter. "You look nice yourself. You ought to wear dress robes more often."

He gave her a gentle smile then offered her his arm, which she laced her hand through, and the two made their way to the entrance hole.

"Behave yourselves!" Amelia called cheerily. Bailey groaned.

It was uncertain which irritated Bailey more—the not-so-subtle exchange of galleons between her fellow Slytherins at the sight of her and Blaise walking in together when they saw herself and Blaise walk in arm in arm or her godbrother's even less subtle raised eyebrows. Or, it could have even been the fact that Slughorn had seated her between Blaise and Harry.

"So, you and Zabini? What about George?" Harry whispered in her ear. "Do I need to make a protective brother speech?"

"No, you do not, _little_ brother," Bailey retorted. "And, even though it is none of your business, George and I are still dating, and Blaise and I are here only as friends—much like you and Granger, I hope."

"But—"

"One more word, Potter, and I will hit you with a flatulence hex so strong that you will never be able to shoe your face in polite society again," she said with a perfect smile as she passed Blaise the butter for his dinner roll. She heard him give a snort, but firmly ignored him. "Are we clear, my dear brother?"

"Most impressive, Lady Black," Blaise said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Now, have you two been introduced, I hope?" Slughorn said, suddenly appearing behind herself and Harry.

"Perhaps once or twice we've met," Bailey said evenly. "After all, it's hard not to know the Chosen One."

Harry stomped her foot beneath the table.

"Well, allow me to formally introduce you two. Harry, m'boy, this is the last direct heir of the line of Black—"

 _Not_ _quite_ , Bailey thought derisively.

"—Lady Minerva Black.

"Please, just call me Lady Bailey, Mr. Potter," she said, holding out a hand imperiously for Harry to take and kiss. She heard Blaise choking on his drink behind her as Harry glared.

"My pleasure," Harry ground out.

"Now, is it true that you've been officially made Lady of the House of Black and inherited you father's home and lands?" Slughorn continued. Bailey felt her face drain of color, but she managed to keep her composure, even with Blaise's and Harry's surprised gazes on her.

"Yes, I just received the titles this week," she said carefully.

"Well, congratulations my dear!" Slughorn boomed before carrying on to make more advantageous introductions.

"You have Grimmauld Place now?" Harry said immediately. "What—why—how? I thought the Ministry banned you from it!"

"Never you mind. I just thank Merlin that it happened before Mum—" she stopped herself short.

"Before Tilly what?"

"Never you mind."

She was sure that Harry would have continued further, if not for the appearance of a certain redhead, for whom he quickly stood to his feet. Bailey smirked at her godbrother, who did not sit until Ginerva Weasley had found her own seat.

"What was that all about?" she whispered.

"What? You're the one who gave me that Wizarding etiquette book!"

"You didn't stand for me."

"Shutup."

Bailey snickered, turning to Blaise, who looked fairly amused himself.

"So Potter and the Weaslette? Could've seen that about a thousand miles away."

Bailey covered her giggles with a dainty hand, trying to concentrate more fully on the dinner party conversation. She had to admire the way that Slughorn seemed to be grooming his favorites to repay him in the future—no wonder he had been able to retire so comfortably on a teacher's pension before. His students seemed to take care of him completely, all indebted to him a thousand times over for the connections he managed to forge. However, that didn't make her want to stay any longer than she had to, especially when she noticed Harry lingering behind. So, as soon as was appropriate, she and Blaise made their goodbyes and quick exits.

They had barely made it into the dungeons proper when Blaise yanked her into one of the hidden alcoves.

"Merlin, Zabini, you're gonna cause even more people to win their galleons tonight," she growled, rubbing her left arm where he had grabbed her.

"How did you get the deeds to your father's house? I was fairly certain that you weren't able to, not even Dumbledore could help," Blaise said suspiciously.

"I called in some favors," Bailey lied easily. Too easily. Blaise seemed to become more worried.

"Bails, have you done something that you might regret?" he asked, rubbing his hands along her arms to make her stay still, to look at him. The action, which usually would have comforted her, made Bailey feel almost sick to her stomach.

"I've done wha' I 'ad to do. Nothing more, nothing less," she said.

Blaise's hands stopped ghosting up and down her arms, instead grasping her firmly. "Bailey, you know you don't need to have done something stupid—me and 'Melia can help you, protect you, lend you money—whatever you need."

Bailey sighed, knowing she'd never be able to get out of this conversation without giving up at least one secret. "Blaise, my mum is pregnant."

He seemed to freeze. "With your—"

"Yes," Bailey said shortly, and without warning, she felt pinpricks at the back of her eyes. Before she could do or say any more, Blaise pulled her close to his chest, allowing her a moment to simply grieve, to be a child again. She shook against him, completely soaking his robes and likely ruining them with running mascara, but he did not seem to care, focusing on simply comforting his friend.

Years later, when Bailey would reminisce on this dark time of her life, she would always say that Blaise had been her savior.


	12. Worrisome Mothers

Chapter 12

 **A/N: So, this ended up being a lot fluffier than I had originally intended. Oh well. Please enjoy and review!**

 _I finally have some good news Mum—we're going to be able to move back into Grimmauld Place! Now, I know that there are some protections already in place, but I've still asked Uncle Rem and George to come and help you get moved in and put up a few more wards._

 _Hope you are taking care of yourself,_

 _Love, Bailey_

"Tilly?" a voice shouted from the door. Tilly tossed the letter from her daughter back on the table before getting up to let her oldest living friend inside.

"Remy!" she said, ushering him inside. A gangly redhead was standing behind him, "an' George. Good to see yeh again."

"Thanks, Mrs. B," George replied, ducking into her house.

"I assume that Bailey told you of our coming?" Remus asked, smirking little.

"Just received her letter, in fact," Tilly sighed. "I assume she waited to send it fer so long so tha' I wouldn' 'ave the opportunity to argue. She seems teh keep forgettin' who the mother is."

George laughed. "That sounds like her! Always has to take care of her own."

"Tha' she does. I suppose yeh two are 'ere to 'elp me," Tilly said, resting a hand on her burgeoning belly. "So, George, if yeh would, perhaps pack up Bailey's room, righ' through there?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" George said, saluting her before doing as he was told. Tilly shook her head at his antics, heart twinging painfully; he was like Sirius when he was young—goofy, care-free, handsome. Her daughter was much too much like her.

"So, Remy, do yeh know 'ow this 'appened?" Tilly asked, holding up the letter.

"I assume that the Ministry finally gave into Bailey and her friends' persistence," Remus said reasonably. He seemed to be uncomfortable, knowing where Tilly's questioning was going.

"Oh, yeh mean like they gave into me after Siri's arrest?" Tilly replied sarcastically.

"Bailey—and by extension, the Black Family—is in a higher standing with the Ministry than you were. There is no reason that—"

"Oh, there is every reason that I should suspect something is wrong with me daughter, and you know it Remus!" Tilly hissed.

Remus frowned, looking older and more worn than Tilly had ever seen him. "You need to calm down, Tilly. Don't you trust your daughter?"

"I trust 'er with me life," Tilly said softly. "And I love 'er with all me heart. But, tha' doesn' mean I trust 'er with 'er own life. An' now, all o' a sudden we can go to Grimmauld Place, we 'ave money—enough money to get Dumbledore off me back abou' 'arry? It's makes me nervous, Tilly."

"Let me visit her," another voice said. Tilly and Remus turned to see George standing in the doorway. "I swear, I wasn't meaning to eavesdrop. At least, not this time."

"Wha' would you visitin' 'er do?"

"Remind her of who all is on her side," George said. "And be able to put your mind at rest, Mrs. B. You worryin' all the time isn't good."

Tilley nodded, looking down at her abdomen to prevent herself from being seen crying. She remembered when she and Sirius had become pregnant about Bailey.

 _"_ _You're sure? You're absolutely sure?"_

 _"_ _Yes, I'm sure, yeh great buffoon!"_

 _"_ _We're going to be parents," he said, grabbing her hands and pulling her to dance around the room with him. "We're going to be parents!"_

She wouldn't allow her daughter to go down that path. Her daughter would not be like her brother-in-law, lost and scared and confused. Dying a horrible death. Not her daughter.

"Thank you, George. Please, 'elp 'er," she replied.

Sometimes, Bailey truly regretted being a Prefect. She regretted it most now, after the sixteenth time of having to chase Ronald Weasley and his girlfriend out of various compromising situations in broom cupboards, empty classrooms, and hidden alcoves

"Stupid bloody Weasel," Bailey muttered under her breath.

"You called?" a voice said behind her. Bailey turned to see her boyfriend standing with his hands in his pocket, a goofy grin on his face.

"What—how—" Bailey stuttered even as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

"Will anyone ever stop asking me 'how'? I'm a Weasley twin, that's how," George said with a genuine smile. Bailey laughed. "So, what were you saying about stupid, bloody Weasel?"

"Your brother," she grumbled. "Has absolutely no self-control when it comes to his new snogging partner, Brown something or other."

George snorted, eyes full of mischievous mirth, and Bailey knew that Ronald Weasley would not be hearing the end of this anytime soon. "Oh, Mum is _so_ gonna hear about this one."

"Merlin, I love you," she said. George's eyes went wide. Suddenly, Bailey realized what she had said and meant to pull it back into her mouth, but all that she found herself able to do was give a small little squeak.

"You just—"

"Yes."

"To me."

"Yes."

"Well, that's new."

Bailey thumped him in the chest, and he smiled for a moment before returning to his original expression of shock. Bailey stood there impatiently as the silence between the two grew, heart ready to thump out of her chest.

"Yeh know, yeh could say something," she said grumpily, crossing her arms. "You don' even have to say it back, you could jus' close yer mouth an' quit catchin' flies."

"I just—I didn't expect that—here I was coming to make sure that you are still doing okay and then you—"

Bailey, despite herself, felt her face burning bright red. "Well, I've gotta go bust some first years or bury myself under a rock or something…" she muttered, turning to walk away.

"Wait!" George called, catching her by the wrist. She didn't turn around until he forced her to. "I love you, too."

Bailey grinned as he pulled himself against her and snogged her soundly. He began to press her up against the wall, far more passionate than she had ever been kissed, when there was a voice behind them.

"Oi! You bloody hypocrite! He doesn't even go here anymore!" came Ronald Weasley's angry voice. She couldn't know for sure, but she was fairly certain that George was giving his little brother the same exact hand gesture that she was as they continued enjoy one another's embrace.


	13. Choices

Bailey walked towards the Slytherin common room with a huge grin on her face. She knew that she needed to stop, she would look suspicious walking in smiling with her hair flying all over the place and her clothes wrinkled, but she just could not stop smiling, no matter how hard she tried.

She was helped, however, by someone shoving her into a broom closet suddenly.

Before she was able to scream for help, a hand clamped over her mouth. She panicked, doing all she could to make her assailant let go, throwing wild punches and kicks toward him. She heard several pained grunts, letting her know that her hits had landed, before—

"Merlin, Bailey, it's just me!"

"Dray!" she exclaimed, turning to face him. He shrugged and she punched him in the jaw, likely hurting her own hand more than his face in the process. "What the hell?"

"Damn, was that really necessary?" he whined, rubbing his jaw.

"Was it really necessary to pull me into a broom closet in the middle of the night like you were about to jump me or something?" she countered.

He glared at her. "I wouldn't have had to pull you in here in the middle of the night if you weren't so hard to get by yourself during the day! Do you and Amelia even separate to go to the bathroom alone?"

"Girls never go to the bathroom alone, it's dangerous, because o' madmen out there who yank 'em away!" she said testily. "And besides, you're the one who has been avoidin' me since the beginning o' term."

"Details," Draco said, waving a hand at her ranting imperiously. Then, he squinted at her, taking in her appearance. "Have you been… fighting a troll?"

Bailey glared at him, not-so-subtly trying to fix her hair. "No, o' course not."

"You've got lipstick… all the way to your ear—who've you been snogging?" he asked, realization dawning on his face. She desperately tried to straighten out her shirt. "Weasley doesn't even go here. Are you dating Blaise on the side?"

He sounded like a little boy at Christmas.

"You're being ridiculous, would you please get to the point?" she said. Draco gave her another sidelong glance before shrugging.

"I've been hearing rumors," he began uncomfortably, "nasty rumors. About you. Now tell me," he lowered his voice, being careful to look her directly in the eye, "are you still neutral in this war?"

Bailey forced herself to remain calm.

"Yes. Of course."

Draco searched her face carefully, looking as though he would give into the relief at her affirmative answer. Then, without his eyes ever leaving her face, he grabbed her arm to him and yanked down her sleeve before she had a chance to comprehend what he was doing.

"I don't believe you."

As he should not have.

Engraved into Bailey's pale skin was the symbol of the man who was the most powerful and the most feared Dark wizard to walk the earth since Morgana in Merlin's time. The black serpent wriggled in and out of the black skull, flickering its tongue at the closet's occupants. Bailey closed her eyes against the image while her cousin shook his head. He did not even try to pretend to be shocked.

"You were supposed to be smarter than this. You were supposed to be smarter than _me_!"

He threw her arm away from him in disgust, forcing the hateful image away from himself. She quickly rolled her sleeve down, covering her shame.

"Don' you dare judge me, Draco Malfoy," she said in a shaking voice. "I just did wha' I had to do. I had no other choice in the matter."

"You had no other choice—you had every choice!" he screeched wildly, tearing at his own hair. "I had no other choice! My mother would have been tortured and killed in front of my eyes, right before he treated me to the same. He would have sure it was as long and painful a process as possible, too. He was already—in. my. home.—when the summer arrived. There was no escape for me. I had no choice. But you—don't try to alleviate your own guilty conscious by claiming you had no choice."

"Dray, please, you don't understand," she said, forcing herself not to beg him to do just that. She did not need Draco Malfoy to be her absolution. "Things at home—with me mum—I had to protect my family, too. Dumbledore refused to help me, so I did the only thing I could."

"You could have run away," he told her. "Hid. Fashioned new identities for you and your mother. You could have been safe. You certainly aren't now."

Bailey shook her head, ignoring his last statement. "Mum would have never left Potter."

"She would have preferred for her precious daughter to sign up for the side trying to kill him?" he scoffed, each word a burning dagger in her gut. "What were you thinking—if you were thinking at all? What are you thinking?"

Bailey clenched her jaw, refusing to be preached at on morality by Draco Malfoy of all people.

"That this war will not make an orphan of me."

Draco shook his head at her, looking as though he were defeated. Yet, she felt no victory in her side of the fight.

"Listen," he said. "I have a task. An impossible task, many would say. And I was told to come to you for what supplies I require."

"What supplies do you need?" she asked, wondering if he was meant to make some sort of drug-like Potion. That would be a near impossible task for him.

"Poison."

Bailey's blood ran cold.

"Tasteless, of course. Fast-acting—the important is that he dies, not that he suffers," Draco continued in a colorless voice. "I plan to lace some of Odgen's best with it—let the old man go out with a party. I have a few other plans in mind—don't ask, I won't tell you—but, in case this first one does not succeed… well, at least I can tell him that the next is already in the works. I know that this kind of thing requires time—even more so with the amount of discretion you must use. So, I'd prefer it already be in motion in case I fail this time. A little good news to soften the punishment, y'know?"

Bailey shuddered at the way he said it.

"I'll do it," she said immediately. "Quick as I can."

He gave her a smile that fell far short of his genuine grins. "Thanks."

"O' course."

The two lapsed into silence.

"Well… c'mon then," she said in a fake jovial tone. "Let's get on back to the Common Room before Snape catches me out-of-bounds a second time tonight!"

"Snape catch you again—" Draco repeated in awe. "Okay, now you have to tell me—who were you snogging?"

"A lady never kisses and tells, dear cousin," she said in her best impression of Amelia in full princess lesson mode.

"Good thing you're no lady then, isn't it?" he quipped.

"Oi, I'll have you know—"

At the next Hogsmeade weekend, Katie Bell was attacked. Draco disappeared for a few days afterward, and when he returned, he was thinner than ever, his skin grey and his eyes haunted. Bailey slipped him some of her own secret store of Dreamless Sleep potion before redoubling her efforts to brew his poison. She knew, without him having to tell her, that he had failed his first attempt to complete his impossible task.

Every day, the nervousness within her grew, as did the realization that she had made the wrong choice. For, it had been her own choice. But, there was another realization growing within her, just as strong.

She now had a choice no longer.


	14. Suspicious Minds

**A/N-So I don't know if anyone is still reading this, but I am still writing it. I actually sat down and wrote out a basic outline for the rest of the story. Hope you enjoy and review!**

The weeks flew by, fading quickly into winter and Yule time. Bailey attended Slughorn's Christmas party with Blaise again, causing yet more exchanges of money between their Housemates. She wasn't positive, but she was fairly sure that even Blaise himself got a cut. Draco had tried to sneak into the party, sending her godbrother into orbit, and causing Snape to lay into him.

Harry, though, was acting like an overgrown puppy, trying to get her excited for Christmas. After all, this year he would be spending Christmas with his official guardian and he could not be happier, despite lacking a very important family member. He had even bought the baby, which her mum had just found out was a boy, a present. It was a small plush dog that Bailey just knew was going to make her mum cry on Christmas morning. She intended to have fun watching the show when Harry had no idea what to do with the overemotional pregnant woman.

"Amazing! She can dress herself!" Amelia said sarcastically as Bailey swung herself up into the carriage where her friends were waiting. She had had an early morning meeting with Professor Snape, who had very reluctantly given her permission to make any potions she wanted over break, only ordering her to let him know every potion she made and to send him samples. They both knew that she would only be doing that for a small fraction of the potions she would be making.

"Shove off, Blackwood," she said. "A Potions Apprentice has to dress appropriately to meet with her Master."

"Really?" Draco drawled. "I've never seen you dress like this before for a meeting with Snape. Any chance you are meeting with a certain Weasel when we get off the train?"

Bailey blushed. "Unless you want me to slip something into your butterbeer on the way back, shove off."

"So," Blaise said awkwardly. He still did not like her relationship with George. "What are you all planning to do over break?"

Bailey and Draco exchanged glances. This was not a conversation either one would be telling the truth in.

Though Bailey had hoped for a more restful break, she should have known better. With so many of his newest recruits home and away from the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord was using every opportunity to gather the young Death Eaters and impart his wisdom and plans for a new and improved Wizarding World. The first of these meetings was at midnight, not even a week after returning home.

All had their hoods pulled and white masks lowered over their faces as they stood in the lavish Banquet Hall of Malfoy Manor. The only Death Eater not disguised was Bellatrix Lestrange herself. Bailey felt fury rise at the sight of her father's murderer, itching to reach for her wand and challenge the woman to a duel. Or perhaps simply _Avada_ her on the spot; she wasn't picky about how her revenge was exacted. But, she forced herself to reign in her temper as she felt a new presence enter the room.

Everyone dropped to their knees, making a clear path down the center of the room for the Dark Lord to walk through unimpeded. Each kissed his bare feet as he passed by; a special few he touched on the head for them to rise.

"My lord," Bailey murmured, kissing his feet on auto-pilot. He touched her gently on the head and held out his hand for her to rise. She took the cold hand, somewhat shocked by his actions, and stood to her feet.

"Welcome, favoured servant," he said in a soft tone, "and congratulations. I hear that the House of Black is growing."

Bailey felt her heart stop beating for a moment; no one outside of family and very close friend were supposed to know of her mother's pregnancy. Not Dumbledore and not the Dark Lord. But, her fear would make him suspicious of her loyalties, loyalties that were to none but her own. So, she forced herself to smile behind the mask.

"Yes, my lord," she admitted, even as she screamed inside to shutup. "Mum will be having a baby boy soon. Thank you, my lord."

The Dark Lord gave a serpentine smile before continuing to the front of the room. All but a few remained prostrate on the floor.

"Look around you, my followers, at the ones who stand before you," the Dark Lord said in a clear voice, raising his arms to gesture at them. "These are the select, the elite of the new generation—the generation that will continue on the sacred work began decades ago, the generation that will lead us to victory at long last! These you see standing are the best of the generation, the ones rising to the heights of our organization. And they—they will be the leaders of the new world order!"

The Death Eaters rose and began to cheer raucously. Despite herself, Bailey felt pride swelling in her chest at the praise and recognition of her power. Here, she was appreciated for her talents, not sneered at and feared. Here, her ancient bloodline, her ambition, her standing in society—they all meant something that they never had with the Order. Even though her face was obscured, she was known.

"One day soon, my friends," the Dark Lord cried out over the cacophony of the crowds. "One day soon, we will come out of hiding! One day soon the natural order will be restored! One day soon, we will rule!"

The cheering grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything, and Bailey was swept along under the waves.

It was nearing daybreak when Bailey finally returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. After shrinking her father's old motorcycle down to pocket size, she crept through the front door slowly, so as to not wake her grandmother's portrait or anyone else in the house. She was just outside of her bedroom door when she heard an angry voice behind her.

"I finally 'admitted' to your mum that you spent the night with George. She wasn't happy, but she went to bed, at least," her godbrother said, emerging from that Merlin-damned cloak of his. "Judging from your appearance, you and I both know that you weren't with your boyfriend."

Bailey gaped at him rather unattractively for a few moments before shoving him into his bedroom.

"I don' know where you get off makin' false accusations against me an' me friends every few days, Potter," she began as she locked the door behind her magically, not caring about the Underage Decree. She was breaking far more laws than that, anyway. "But it's got to stop. Now."

"My accusations aren't false, they're true!" he snarled, shoving her backwards. He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself. "I recognize those robes!"

Bailey shook her head. "They're just black—"

"They're Death Eater robes, you and I both know it!" Harry shouted. "How long? Was it after Bellatrix Lestrange murdered your father in front of your face? Were you inspired? Was all that grieving just a show? Or did you join up before? Did you lure Sirius there just to have him kill—?"

Bailey slapped her godbrother across the face, forcing him to take a step back toward his bed. She pulled put her wand and began to advance on him.

"Don' yeh dare insult me like tha', Potter," she growled, placing her wand tip at his throat. Both of them knew who was the more powerful dueller in the room, even if Harry grabbed his wand. "I loved my father, an', unlike you, I did everything to protect him from the moment I met him. You drew him back to England fourth year. You made him stay last year. And ultimately, because of yer stupid arse mistake and stubbornness, you got 'im killed!"

Harry glared defiantly at her, even as she twisted her wand tip further and further into his skin.

"You won't get away with this," he snarled angrily. "I knew better than to trust you. I will call the Order and the Aurors here right now, and they will cart you right off to Azkaban—"

 _Long grasping fingers reached through the bars of her cell, whispering horrible things in her ear as she curled into foetal position in the corner of the small, cold cell—_

Bailey shivered at the memories. She would not go back to Azkaban; she would die before she allowed that. But, she had better options open to her.

"Like hell you will," she ground out. " _Obliviate_."

Immediately, Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped against his bed, unconscious. Bailey forced herself to take a few deep steadying breaths; that had been entirely too close. Once she calmed herself enough, she vanished her black, heavy robes to reveal a party outfit beneath. Then, she gently woke her godbrother up.

"Harry. Harry," she whisper-shouted into his ear as she shook his shoulder. She was beginning to panic, thinking she had messed up the spell and left her godbrother a vegetable when he finally started to wake up, blinking blearily in the morning light streaming through the window.

"Wha's goin' on?" he mumbled, disoriented. He looked up at her, taking in her dishevelled appearance.

"I'm back from George's," she lied quickly. "Were you able to cover for me?"

He blinked at her and sat up slowly, groaning and rubbing his head like he had a headache. "Merlin, Minnie, it's already morning! What in Merlin's name were you doing—wait, no, don't tell me."

Bailey rolled her eyes, thanking whatever deity may be up there that he was believing her.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said. "Were you able to cover for me?"

He shook his head guiltily. "You know your mum—she drug it out of me 'round midnight. You'll be in for it when she gets up—she was bloody pissed. You're lucky she didn't go straight to the shop to drag you back by the ear!"

Bailey felt relieved; she was extremely lucky for that. Her secret would have been out and no amount of Memory Charms would have been able to fix it.

"Lovely," she said sarcastically to her godbrother. "Remind me to teach you how to lie while I'm grounded for the rest of my life. All you have to say is that I'm at 'Melia's."

"Yeah, yeah," he replied. "Your Mum is like a bloodhound with lies. And, y'know, you could just come back at a decent time. And let me sleep."

"Oh, yeh're really one to talk abou' bein' out past curfew," she bantered back.

"Saving the world, not… whatever you were doing," he shot back. She blushed even as she felt sick to her stomach.

Before she could continue their little game, he waved her off, pulling the covers over his head. He was asleep before Bailey even made it out of the room. She sighed in pure relief before tip-toeing back to her own room, hoping to be able to do the same before facing her mother.

"Care to explain where yeh've been, Bailey Ann?"

Fate hated her.


	15. Brothers Black

**A/N: Here is the next installment of Sirius' journey through the Land Beyond. Enjoy and review!**

"You really ought to close your mouth now, Sirius. That gaping is rather unbecoming. I still have no idea how you managed to end up married," Regulus drawled, though he still had a happy smile on his face. Sirius was not sure the last time he had seen his brother smile like that, if his brother had ever smiled like that.

He snapped his mouth shut and sent his brother a petulant glare. Regulus simply laughed at his older brother's childishness.

"Just like when we were brothers, isn't it?" Regulus said in a soft voice. His eyes betrayed years of sadness. "Nice to see that some things never change."

"We were always brothers, Reggie," Sirius said, wanting to reach out to his brother. His arms fell limply at his sides instead. "Nothing could have changed that."

"Really? We were? That is not what you said when I was fifteen," his brother countered bitterly. Young voices shouting echoed through the vast expanse.

"Come home, Siri, please! I'm still your brother—we're still your family! Please, come home. I need my brother. You need us," a younger Regulus echoed through the space.

"I have no family! And I certainly don't need a Death Eater wannabe for a brother!" the younger Sirius replied nastily.

The older Sirius felt sick to his stomach at the words. They cut him to the core, far better than any "sectumsempra" could have.

"I really said that, didn't I? Merlin," he said, utterly disgusted with himself, though whether it was for the tears building in his eyes or the old conversation with his baby brother he did not quite know.

"Funnily enough, at that point I had been doing all I could to get away from the Death Eaters. I believed in blood purity, don't get me wrong," Regulus said shuddering, "but I was not so barbaric as they were. I refused to do more… especially when I found out the lengths to which the Dark Lord would go."

"Don't call him that," Sirius said. Regulus gave him a hard look.

"Habit," his little brother said.

"What were you thinking, trying to run away?" Sirius broke the silence with the question he had always wanted to ask, after years of wishing he had known in time to protect his brother. "What happened to all your so-called self-preservation? You could have come to me. I would have kept you safer than you just trying to desert in the middle of a battle."

"So that's the story they put out," Regulus replied, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling darkly. "Should have known they would have done everything to make me seem as cowardly as possible. What did they say became of my body?"

"They…." Sirius trailed off, closing his eyes. He remembered that horrible day when he learned of his brother's fate all too well. "They… they gave it to the werewolves, and burned what little of it remained. Mother and Father were appalled, according to the papers. Though, it wasn't long before they were killed as well."

Regulus shook his head ruefully. "If only that had been what become of me."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, feeling dread rise in his gut. "What happened to you?"

"I found out a… secret of the Dark—Voldemort's. He had all but tortured Kreacher—an innocent being—" Sirius gave a small snort. Regulus glared at him before continuing. "His secret was far worse, far Darker than I ever imagined him to be capable of. And I had been complicit in it. There is no room for self-preservation, as you said, when you hate yourself."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind at the last minute.

"So I had Kreacher take me to his hiding spot—full of Inferi and all sorts of other Dark enchantments. There was this awful poison that I had to drink to do what need be done. At the end of it—I had to have water. I was desperate," Regulus said, not quite looking at his elder brother. "I knew better than to drink from that lake. But, I did anyway. I sent Kreacher home—no matter how much he had begged me to allow him to stay and help me. There was no salvation for me. The Inferi drug me below the water, and I drowned. I supposed I'm still down there, forever his slave. Hopefully, though, my actions have made it so that he is mortal once more."

Sirius looked at his little brother in horror. This was so different than anything he had imagined when he learned of his brother's death.

"You were a hero," he said, looking at his little brother with new eyes. His brother gave a small, sad smile.

"No," he replied. "I was the villain. I merely hope that I managed to atone for some of my mistakes. You, brother, were always the heroic one."

Sirius shook his head, but he knew his baby brother would not take him at his word. Regulus had always been extremely hard on himself, demanding perfection of himself, even when they were small children. As much time as the young boy had spent in the library, making sure that he knew all he could of spells and potions, Sirius had been amazed that his little brother had not been Sorted into Ravenclaw.

"So… what now?" Sirius said awkwardly after several more moments of silence.

"Now, you learn," Regulus said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You have always been brave and loyal, big brother, but never understanding. And that is what she will need when you return. You can't abandon her, no matter what has happened."

The "like you did to me" was left unspoken.

"But… who? Who is this that everyone keeps warning me about?" Sirius finally asked. His little brother looked at him sadly.

"I am sure, if you allow yourself to admit it, that you already know who is in such desperate trouble," Regulus said.

"Bailey," Sirius replied. Regulus nodded.

"She's a smart girl. Talented, Powerful," he said. "How she came from you, I'm not sure…"

Sirius shoved him in the shoulder and Regulus sniggered.

"If she's so smart, how did she get mixed up in all of this?" Sirius asked, though whether he was wanting an answer from his brother or not, he was not quite sure. "She had said that she wanted to stay neutral in the war, so that she did not have to fight anyone she cared about. And now… now she…"

"I also had had every intention of staying neutral," Regulus said slowly. "And, as you know, I was always the smarter brother. But, circumstances got in the way of that. Fear set in and took over. By the time I realized that there were other options… it was already too late for me to escape with my life."

Sirius' heart clenched. "Are you saying… Bailey will die?"

Regulus looked as though he himself was close to tears, already grieving for the niece he had never had the chance to meet. The niece that was so much like him. "I am saying that the likelihood of her coming out on the other side of the war is dropping every minute that she serves him."

Sirius looked up at his brother, fire burning in his heart. "Then I've got to get to her."


	16. Secrets Never Keep

For some reason Bailey could not fathom, her mother herded herself and Harry to the Burrow for Christmas dinner. Bailey supposed that her mother was tired of the cooking and cleanup while she was also throwing up every hour. She couldn't complain about the change of plans too much; it allowed her to finally see George again. After coming home so late that night (or morning, as it were), Bailey had been for the most part confined to her room. Not that it really stopped from doing as she pleased, but the grounding had become quite the nuisance.

"Happy Christmas," George said as she walked through the front door, a few paces behind her mum and Harry. She could already see her godbrother making goo-goo eyes at Ginny. George, however, seemed almost shy as he took in her appearance, after having only been seeing her in the dead of night in her motorcycle clothes for so long.

She was wearing a deep red dress with off-the-shoulder long sleeves. The bodice wrapped tightly around her waist before flaring gently to her knees. There was a crisscrossing green mistletoe pattern that shifted and grew magically across the fabric, every now and then sending sparkled of light cascading down her dress.

"And to you, too," she replied with a grin, pulling him by the hand closer to her so she could kiss him softly on the lips. She heard a few catcalls and few more gagging noises, but she ignored them, as did George.

George grinned mischievously at her when they pulled away. "If that gets them so excited, they ought to have seen us in the broom closet."

Bailey blushed crimson. "George Fabian Weasley!" she exclaimed, shoving him on the chest. He snickered at her.

"C'mon, let's go help Mum."

Later that evening, Bailey convinced her mum to allow her to go to George's flat, as the couple wished to celebrate Christmas a bit more privately as, Bailey told her mother, they had rather personal gifts for each other. Of course, she was waiting until George had actually left the Burrow to follow him, as they didn't want Mrs. Weasley to get any ideas about them running off to elope, as the matriarch was sure they were planning to do. Bailey had no idea where the woman had got that idea. Probably a joke from George.

Also, by waiting, she did not actually have to go George's.

Instead, Bailey rode her motorbike into Knocturn Alley before pulling her Death Eater robes out of her magically enlarged purse, carefully arranging them over her party dress.

This time, no one was wearing their masks in Borgin and Burke's. After all, it was a party, and those present all knew who the others were and their standing in the ranks. As soon as Bailey walked into the room, she felt Draco's eyes on her. She looked over at him shaking his head sadly at her. His black, heavy robes made him look even paler than he was. She jumped when she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

"Bailey," a soft voice said behind her. She swiveled around to see Narcissa Malfoy, face drawn and worried. She had heard that society had not treated the socialite well after her husband's arrest.

"Mrs—Narcissa—I—" she stuttered, unsure of what the older woman's reaction to Bailey would be. After all, the woman's son had all but hated her at the beginning of term.

The older woman quickly pulled Bailey into a tight hug. Bailey was shocked at the strange show of affection, though not as shocked as she was at the words the woman whispered into her ear.

"Why are you here? You are not safe!"

Bailey drew back from the Malfoy matriarch and stared at her open-mouthed. Before she could reply, however, a wretched screaming came from the other end of the room. Bailey immediately pulled her wand from her sleeve, ready to jump into battle as she whipped towards the direction of the screams.

She saw Bellatrix Lestrange cackling madly, wand fixed on a muggle man in a cage that one would see in a circus from the trained animals. The man was convulsing wildly as he screamed out. Several Death Eaters gathered to watch the macabre spectacle, laughing and jeering at the man's pleads for mercy. Bailey finally began to take in the room at large. There were more circus cages throughout, some holding emaciated figures, others empty but for stains on the floor that looked suspiciously like bloodstains. Bailey felt nauseous as she looked back at Narcissa, who was staring resolutely away from the cages.

"You don't belong here, dear," she said softly. "You're not like my sister. I don't belong here. Neither does my son."

"But—"

Narcissa shook her head before raising a martini glass elegantly to her lips. Looking shrewdly at Bailey, she summoned another glass and handed it to Bailey, who took it cautiously but did not drink. Narcissa pursed her lips.

"Here. If you are intoxicated, they will not question why you are vomiting. That," she gestured to the cage with her glass, still not looking at it, "is only the beginning of tonight's revelries."

Bailey stood in shock as Narcissa took another drink, motioning for Bailey to do the same. The alcohol burned painfully in the back of her throat. She winced as another, younger sounding pierced the night. She quickly downed the rest of the drink, head seeming to float above her shoulders. It was going to be a long night.

George stood outside of the shop he and his brother had built together, breathing in the cold night air. He knew that his family—or at least his mother—would worry to see him outside so late at night during such dark times, but he did not care. After all, what his mother did not know, would not hurt her, and the quiet of the night was so soothing.

The prankster reached for his wand when he heard a sudden disturbance—like someone stumbling and knocking something over.

"Hello? Show yourself before I hex first and ask questions later!" he called out into the darkness.

The figure, hunched and stumbling, came into view, wearing black Death Eater robes. George had the hex ready on his lips, before he put his wand back down, recognizing the person who was stumbling and cursing in the streets.

"Bailey?" he asked hesitantly, utterly confused. The girl looked up at the sound of her name and smiled brightly, teeth flashing in the streetlamps.

"Look! It's me byefrien'!" she yelled merrily, pointing at him as she drew closer. George's eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. His smart, composed girlfriend absolutely reeked of alcohol.

"Are you… drunk?" he asked slowly. She nodded, which served to destabilize her. He launched forward and caught her, nearly knocked over by the smell of booze. "Why are you out here in Death Eater robes and drunk?"

Bailey leaned into him, burying her face into his Christmas jumper. Apparently, she was a cuddly drunk. He was not sure how to feel about that.

"'s wha' Cissa tol' me teh do. An' Cissa always knows wha' teh do," she mumbled into his shirt. "She sai' ge' drunk, so I di'! Ho'f'ly I don' 'member tomorrow. 'cuz I still 'member tonigh'."

George furrowed his eyebrows. "Bailey, what are you talking about?"

She mumbled something incoherently, just before shoving away from him and retching violently on the cobblestone street. He winced before scooping her long hair back from her face.

"Merlin, you're gonna have a helluva headache tomorrow," he muttered. She all but collapsed against him when she was done. He stumbled for a moment before catching her. "Alrighty, time for bed."

With a fluid motion, he scooped her into his arms bridal style, thanking whatever gods that may be watching that Fred had gone to visit Lee Jordan and some other buddies that night. When he got to their flat he gently laid Bailey on his own bed. She had already fallen asleep, snoring softly. He grinned, knowing that he would be teasing her for that later. Figuring she could not be comfortable sleeping in her party clothes, he performed a quick switching spell to put her in one of his old t-shirts and pajama bottoms that utterly swamped her smaller form. She had seemed to have lost a lot of weight since the death of her father, and it worried George. He noticed some black on her wrist. Curious, he gently flipped her hand over to see what it was and nearly jumped away when he saw it.

The Dark Mark.

George did not sleep well that night.

"So you got really drunk last night,"George said nonchalantly. "And you did the most cliche thing in the world and got a drunken tattoo. On your arm."

Bailey gaped at him, looking down at said arm, realizing that her Dark Mark was exposed for the world to see. She tried to make a sound, but found herself frozen in action.

"At least, I hope that's how it went down," George said in a quieter voice. "I hope that you just went to Screaming Dragons last night after going to the pub and decided to get a really horrific thing put onto your arm and we can laugh about it and maybe get it removed, but going by your reaction, that isn't the right story is it?"

She stayed silent, though tears were pouring down her cheeks.

George pursed his lips; never before had Bailey seen him look so somber, not a hint of humor in his eyes.

"I'll apparate you home. You're probably too hungover to take the bike," George said, tossing her party outfit and black Death Eater robes to her. She stared at them.

"I can Appa-"

"I think you're enough of a criminal now without underage magic, don't you?" He said harshly. Bailey flinched. "Sorry."

They sat in silence. Bailey looked at the clothes in her hands.

"Switching spell," George said awkwardly. "I didn't... You know."

Bailey nodded, head and heart hurting too much to be embarrassed as she went into his bathroom to change. She avoided looking in the mirror; she would not recognize herself anyway. Before waking out, she stuffed her Death Eater robes back into her purse as though hiding them away would allow everything to go back to the way it was before. When she stepped out, George was dressed as well, standing by the door, obviously ready to leave.

"I can't do this, Bailey," he said, not looking at her. "I can't do this relationship. I can't be in love with a Death Eater."

Bailey felt her heart clench painfully.

"Are you—"

"No, I won't turn you in," he said, though it seemed to pain him to say so. Bailey nodded, relieved, but that was not quite what she had meant to ask.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

George just looked at her, pain filling his normally happy brown eyes.

"C'mon," he said. "I need to get you home."

Bailey bit down a sob as he took her hand and quickly Apparated her to the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen for her, looking ready to breath fire.

"When I said you could go to your boyfriend's, I didn't mean for the whole-Bailey?"

Without hesitating, Bailey collapsed into her mum's arms like she was a little girl again, and sobbed all her pain out in her mother's lap.


	17. The Poison

Bailey was quiet for most of the rest of break, despite Harry's best efforts to cheer her up. When she left early from the Order's New Year's party, she could feel George's eyes on her the entire time, even though she had no intention of going anywhere but to bed. She just could not stand the suspicious look in his eyes. Needless to say, she was beyond relieved when they went back to school.

They had been back to school less than a day when Draco accosted Bailey in her favorite reading nook in the Slytherin Common Room.

"Who said you could come over here?" Bailey drawled as she lazily flipped the page of her new Potions journal. Draco rolled his eyes.

"As you've been told many times by many different people, just because you wrote your name on that chair doesn't make it yours, Bails," Draco replied sarcastically. She smirked.

"Funny you say that, because very few people continue to deny that this is, in fact, my chair," Bailey retorted.

"That's because most people are too afraid that you will slip something unsavory into their pumpkin juice to dare displease the Heir of Black. You've quite the reputation," Draco said, in an almost admiring tone. "Speaking of which, I need your help. Have you finished what I asked you about before break?"

Bailey gave him a harsh look before turning back to her journal. "I've been working on it."

"And?"

"And I'm working on it," before Draco could come up with something else to say to thoroughly irritate her, she continued, "what you are wanting is not the easiest thing in the world. Especially not with Mum and Snape breathing down my neck."

"Snape ought to be helping you," Draco argued. "He's loyal to—"

"No one but himself," she said. "That's what Da' always said. And right now, being loyal to Dumbledore keeps him away from the Dementors, so that's who he's loyal to. Probably'll change several times before this war is over with."

"He ought to keep his big nose out of other people's business, any way."

Bailey sighed. "Look, it ought to be ready by February, okay?"

Draco bit his lip, obviously nervous.

"That's really the best you can do?"

"Yes, it really is. You can spend that time making sure this plan goes better than the last so that my work isn't for nothing," she snarked. Draco looked taken aback.

"Merlin, did Weasel and you have a fight or something?" he quipped. She looked back at her potions journal, heart clenching.

"None of your business, Malfoy."

"So you broke up," he said in a reasonable tone. "Well, looks like Parkinson owes me twenty galleons. Was it because you and Blaise have been going to all those Slug Club events together?"

"Do you want yer bloody poison or no'?"

Draco held up his hands in a universal gesture for surrender. "Sorry."

Bailey growled under her breath and began flipping through her journal again, picturing all the unsavoury things she could put into _Draco's_ goblet at dinner.

Over the next few weeks, Bailey all but neglected her Prefect duties and homework in order to spend as much time in the Potions lab as possible; both to finish her Wolfsbane research and to make Draco's poison. Somehow, never-ending pots of coffee kept making their way into her lab, just when she needed them. After the third pot, she was fairly sure that Snape knew about her unlogged hours in the lab; why he was helping her instead of stopping her, she did not know.

It was near Valentine's Day when Bailey finished the poison, a day she tried hard not to think on, even though Blaise, kind heart that he was, had presented both Bailey and Amelia with fine Swiss chocolates that day. She waited until Valentine's night, when most everyone was out having some sort of romantic evening, to slip Draco the potion.

"I can't talk right now I have a—is this what I think it is?" Draco said, trying to pull away from the dark common room corner that Bailey had pulled him into.

"Yes it is," Bailey said, wrinkling her nose. "Please tell me you're not going on a date with Parkinson. You are absolutely drenched in cologne and it's awful."

"I'm not going with Parkin—never mind that," Draco stuttered, beet red. Bailey would have to investigate this mystery girl further. "Does it work?"

"Yes, I tested it several times—don't ask how," Bailey said with a shudder. "Unless your assignment is a Potions Master with a full kit on hand, then there is no hope for survival. Be dead in less than three minutes, maybe two depending on how big they are. I assume you have the mead ready?"

"Yes, of course," Draco said. He was positively bouncing, ready to leave. Bailey smirked; this girl, whoever she was, was a ready distraction to their macabre conversation.

"You have less than a week after you pour the vial in. So make sure they're going to drink it soon. And destroy the vial afterwards—it'll be unusable anyway and I _don't_ need this traced back to me."

Draco gulped, nodding. "Thank you so much, but—"

"You have to go, yeah, yeah, I know. Is it Bulstrode? Lovegood? Granger?"

"Goodbye," Draco said pointedly before all but running out the door. Bailey would have to tell Harry to keep an eye on the map; whoever Draco was wooing was bound to be interesting.

"Hey, Bails! Weasel not take you out for Valentine's?" Blaise said, seeing her standing in the corner. Bailey stared at him.

"No, of course not," she said. "Why would he?"

"If I were your boyfriend—"Blaise broke off and Bailey felt her ears go red. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth awkwardly a few times. "I mean," he began again in a low voice, staring at the floor, "if I were out of school and had a girlfriend still in school, I would still come and take her out for Valentine's Day. I mean—that's what a man should do, isn't it?"

"George isn't—I mean we aren't—" Bailey broke off. "I thought Draco would have told you. He broke up with me. Boxing Day."

"Oh," Blaise said nonchalantly. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. "Wanna come sit over here? I was thinking of listening to one of those cheesy radio dramas on the Wizard broadcast."

"Sure," Bailey said, a bit thrown by the sudden change.

After a few moments of trying to tune to the right station, Blaise finally gave up and turned to Bailey. "Sorry."

"It's alright, I was probably just going to read my Potions journal anyway—"

"No, not that," Blaise said. "About you and Weasel. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that after all you've been through this year. I know that you… liked him."

Bailey looked at Blaise in shock. "I thought you hated him?"

"Oh, I do," Blaise said matter-of-factly. Bailey laughed and he grinned. "Probably always will. But, I care about you more than I hate him. I thought you knew that."

Bailey suddenly felt as though the fire was altogether too hot for her and shifted uncomfortable on the couch. The silence between them grew, before she finally said, "I think Draco has a girlfriend. He ran off awfully quick tonight."

Blaise cleared his throat. "He does."

Bailey grinned evilly. "He seemed really shifty about her—wonder who it could be? Care to take a guess?"

Blaise cleared his throat again. "Don't need to. I already know."

"You do?" Bailey replied. "He told you?"

"Well, he's only been going on about her for six years now. I'm only surprised that he's chosen now of all times to date her," Blaise replied sarcastically. At that comment, Bailey's interest was further piqued.

"Now you have to tell me who it is," she said excitedly.

Blaise cocked his head to the side. "Somehow, I think that Draco would not agree. He's not told anyone else for a reason, you know."

"Oh, c'mon," she wheedled, shoving him with her shoulder. "You know you want to tell me. I told you when Amelia was dating Ernie Macmillian fourth year. What does that tell you?"

"That you are not to be trusted with sensitive information?" he quipped. She laughed and shoved him again.

"I am plenty trustworthy," she replied as he pretended to rub his shoulder in pain. He grinned up at her, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "What? I am, _Blaise_ ," she repeated, feeling a little offended. His gaze softened, and his eyes flickered across her face.

"Yeah, you are," he said in a soft voice. "I probably trust you more than anyone else in the world."

Bailey felt tears prick at her eyes, knowing that she was undeserving of such faith and trust from her best friend. Noticing her sudden upset, Blaise frowned in confusion and took her hands in his own, warmth spreading to her. She stiffened, unsure what to make of this sudden heat, this kindness that she was unworthy of.

"You know that whatever is wrong, you can tell me, right Bails?" he said. "Just like always. I'll help you, however I can, like I did in trying to find your dad, way back when."

Bailey smiled a little at that, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Not trusting herself to know what to say, she stood to leave, though she did not quite pull out of Blaise's grasp.

"I'm just kinda tired, y'know?" she said. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

Before she was able to leave, Blaise stood up with her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Wrapped as she was, with her face buried in his sweet-smelling shirt, she could help but allow her carefully constructed masks crumble. She took in several deep breaths to steady herself asBlaise placed a kiss to her head.

"Love you, Bails," he murmured like he had a thousand times before, as best friends are wont to do.

"Love you too," she replied in a sigh before making her way back upstairs.

Before the week was out, Ronald Weasley was laid up in the Hospital Wing after a failed poisoning. He had only survived because he and Harry Potter were in Slughorn's quarters, drinking a bottle of Ogden's Best meant for Dumbledore. Bailey was livid, ready to roast Draco for his foolishness, but when she saw him with dark circles under his eyes and looking as though he had received news that his dog had died, her heart broke. And, instead of setting lose her ire on the boy, she held him as he cried and cried over the imprisonment and torture of his mother. He was facing punishment enough for his failures.


	18. Augustus Rigel Black

After the poisoning incident, February passed with little fuss. Blaise escorted Bailey to all of the Slug Club events, as well as all the various social events always taking place within Slytherin House. Whenever they would do this, whispers would begin behind them and people would pass off money to each other. Bailey didn't have much time to worry about that, however, as it seemed that Professor Snape and Voldemort were competing for who could demand from her the most experimental potions.

At the same time, her mother's due date was looming ever closer, making Bailey nervous with each passing moment. She knew from reading that grief, age, and childbirth was not a good combination. Nearly every night, she had nightmares of her mother and the baby dying, leaving her all alone in the world. She hated having to go to sleep every night, though she knew too much about the effects of Dreamless Sleep to risk taking it all but on the worst nights.

All of this stress built to Bailey falling asleep in many of her classes, no matter how hard she tried to stay awake. It was to the point that on top of all her other duties, she was serving detention with McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout several times a week, only compounding the problem. She had heard Professor Snape railing against her professors several times for giving her so many detentions when it was brutally obvious that she just needed sleep. Bailey could not help but resent the man for it, as that had only caused the other professors to question if Bailey should continue her Potions mastery while still at Hogwarts.

Luckily, Blaise was her partner in Arithmancy class, and was there to poke her awake each time she began to nod off on his shoulder. The more times he had to do so, the more worried the looks were that he gave her.

After dozing off for the fifth time, it was not Blaise who woke her up. Instead, it was the door of the classroom slamming open. She startled awake to see her godbrother standing at the door looking ready to wet himself.

"Sorry to interrupt, Professor," he said worriedly, "but I need Bai—Black. Now."

All of a sudden, Bailey was extremely awake. Before Professor Vector was able to so much as nod his acceptance, Bailey had shot out of her desk and to her godbrother's side. Blaise was looking even more worried than before as the two left the classroom together. As soon as they closed the door, Harry pulled her into a hug.

"What's going on?" she demanded, in no mood to have some sort of sweet family moment.

"Tilly's in labor," he said, going pale. "From what Remus told me, I don't think it's going very well, but the Order had determined it's too dangerous to take her to Mungo's, or even to a muggle hospital."

Bailey swore viciously. "But there is still several weeks to go!"

"I'd say it's more like several hours," Harry said dryly. Bailey glared at him, clearly saying that this was no time for joking matters. "C'mon, Professor McGonagall is letting us use her fireplace to get to Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley and Remus are already there."

Bailey nodded. "Alright, let's go."

Before leaving the castle, Bailey insisted on stopping by her potions labs to pick up whatever potions she thought might be of use to her mother—Pepper-Up, Pain Relief, Blood Replenisher.

"You really don't think that the Healer they called doesn't have this stuff already?" Harry asked, antsy to be off.

"No, I would likely have her sent away if she doesn't have at least these basics," Bailey said as she rustled through her stores. "I just don't trust anyone else's potions."

Harry rolled his eyes even as he scrunched his nose against the smell. "Merlin, it reeks in here. You'd think something had died."

"Where do you think potions ingredients come from?" she retorted sarcastically.

"I know, but it really smells. It feels… evil, almost," he said. Bailey tensed.

"Just because you hate Professor Snape does not make him or his subject evil, Harry," she said evenly. "Now, come on, I have everything I need."

"Skele-gro? You need skele-gro?"

"Da' used to say she broke all the fingers in his hand when I was born, so…" she shrugged. "Just in case."

Harry blanched as Bailey laughed and pulled him toward McGonagall's office and to Grimmauld Place. Though Bailey was able to give Mrs. Weasley the potions to give to the Healer when they arrived, neither were allowed in the room. Harry, of course, was relieved, though Bailey was livid.

"Why not?" she half-shouted. "I'm her daughter! That's my little brother! I'm the closest family either of them has got!"

"That room is no place for children!" Mrs. Weasley admonished.

"No place for—There _is_ a child being born in there! Besides, I'm no child—I'll be seventeen in a month!" Bailey yelled, even as Harry placed a hand on her arm to try to lead her away and calm her down. Not that it would have helped; Bailey had inherited her father's temper.

"Then it's no place for teenagers!" Mrs. Weasley retorted. A scream of pain came from upstairs, nearly causing Bailey to bolt up there, Mrs. Weasley be damned. Harry looked rather pale. "I need to get back up there. You—" she pointed at Harry "—keep her down here. And you—"she turned toward Bailey and grimaced "—don't let him pass out."

With that, Mrs. Weasley turned and went back upstairs while Bailey turned towards Harry, hands on hips.

"You've been tortured by the Dark Lord himself and you can't handle a woman in childbirth?" she scoffed.

"It sounds—" another scream came from upstairs and Harry winced "—painful."

Bailey laughed at her godbrother and shook her head as she drug him into the parlor. They would likely be waiting for awhile.

Somehow, Harry and Bailey ended up asleep in a tangle of limbs and drool (both would always accuse the other of being the drooler) on one of the couches, which was how Remus found them when he came downstairs.

"Bailey," he said gently, shaking her shoulder while trying not to wake Harry. The girls needed to have their own moment. "Bailey!"

"Uncle Rem?" she asked sleepily. "You were allowed up there?"

He chuckled. "I do have Healer training."

"So do I," she grumbled, still only half-awake. Then, seemingly realizing what it meant that her godfather was waking her up, her eyes shot open, "Mum? The baby?"

"Both perfectly fine," Remus said with a smile. "They're both resting upstairs if you want to meet your baby brother."

Bailey's eyes went wide as Remus helped her to gently extricate herself from Harry. Remus frowned as he noticed some black lines on her wrist.

"Have you yet to grow out of drawing on yourself?" he teased. Bailey looked confused, then blushed, pulling her sleeve down.

"Not quite, Uncle Rem," she said with a small smile. He laughed, and pulled her towards him, kissing the top of her head.

"You've been through so much this past year and every day you amaze me with how strong you are," he said softly against her hair. She was still for a moment before pulling away from him, looking pale and somewhat guilty, as though she were a little girl caught in the cookie jar again. Or a thirteen year old being caught aiding and abetting a convict into the castle. Remus frowned.

"Is there something you needed to talk about, Bailey?"

"Talk?" she repeated, before a broad grin overtook the guilty look on her face. "At a time like this? No, Uncle Rem, I've just got to meet that baby!"

Remus laughed before leading her upstairs to her father's old room, where Tilly had taken up residence and refused to go anywhere else, insisting that in that room, it felt like her husband was still alive. Bailey was bouncing in front of the door like she used to before being allowed into the living room on Christmas to see what St Nick had left her. Deciding not to torture the impatient girl further, Remus swung the door open to reveal and tired and pale looking Tilly with a small blue bundle in her arms.

For a moment, it looked as though Bailey was going to hop into the bed with Tilly and the baby, but she stopped just shy of the bed's edge.

"Wow," she breathed. Remus smiled at the girls before backing out of the room and shutting the door, allowing the remaining Blacks to have their moment. "He's…. red. And tiny."

Tilly laughed weakly. "Fer such a tiny mite, 'e sure did cause a fuss."

"That he did," Bailey replied, still in awe. "Did they use my potions? I wanted to come up here, but—"

"But there was no need fer yeh to be up 'ere," Tilly said firmly. Then, more gently, she added, "an', yes, they did use yer potions. Thank yeh, sweetheart."

Bailey nodded, throat tight for some reason as she stared at her mother and baby brother. Her mother was still paler than she had ever seen.

"Would yeh like to 'old yer baby brother?" her mother said with a smile. Bailey paused. Could she? Could she really hold such a small, pure being with a Mark on her arm that stood for war and death? Could she not without arousing suspicion?

"What's his name?" she asked, stalling for time.

"Augustus Rigel Black," Tilly replied with a smile. "Your father, for whatever reason, always liked the name Augustus. Rigel, however, was always my favorite. Here," she said, shoving the child out to Bailey's arms, ignoring her daughter's indecision. "I really need to pee on my own before Molly comes back."

"But Mu—"

Bailey was not able to get out any more than that before her mum had already taken off towards the bathroom. Bailey sighed as the small boy gurgled. She looked down at his large, dark blue eyes. Bailey was sure that they would darken to their father's warm grey before long.

"Hey, Gussy," she said softly, carrying him over to the window. "I'm your big sister. I know that I've made some mistakes, but I swear, I will protect you. Hopefully, the war will be over soon—for good—and you'll grow up hearing stories of Daddy and safe and sound. He would have loved you so much, Gussy."

"Gussy. Yer father would 'ave hated tha'," her mother said, leaning against the door. Bailey jumped, causing the baby to whimper in her arms. She bounced him softly, causing her mum to smile. "Yeh're good wit 'im."

"He would have hated Gussy but he loved Minnie?" Bailey said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as she helped her mother to the bed.

"Normally, 'e hated 'cutesy' names," she said. "'owever, I think 'e though' 'e was ' getting' away wit somethin' callin' yeh Minnie…. I know o' at least three detentions 'e an' James got from callin' their professor Minnie."

Bailey snorted, gently laying Gussy back into Tilly's arms after her mum was safely back in bed. Tilly patted the other side of her for Bailey to join, as she had when she was little. Soon, Tilly had both of her children safely ensconced in each arm.

"We're gonna be alrigh', Bails," she whispered into her daughter's ear. "You, me, Harry, and now little Augustus—we make a family. We'll be okay. We just 'ave to keep believin' tha', alrigh'?"

"Alright, Mum," Bailey whispered in reply, refusing to think of anything complicated, instead focusing on her family beside her.


	19. The Children of Sirius Black

Chapter 18

Sirius spent a long time talking with his little brother before continuing his journey in the Land Beyond the Veil. He knew that when he returned for good, it would be as though Hogwarts had never happened to separate the brothers, even better, really. But, he first had to return to the world of the living and die, again, many, many years from now. As well as face whatever new horrors the Veil had in store for him. Such as the building before him now, which had meant stuffy parties and gross food when he was still a child, and then the house of evil when he was a grown man and Auror. He didn't even bother to groan as he stared up at the imposing structure of Malfoy Manor. He knew the game by now; he would have to go in there and face whatever was there best he could.

So, without any further ado, Sirius marched into the manor. The inside seemed different than before; the walls and floors were a matching rusty red color that Sirius tried hard not to think on and the whole place seemed to be permeated with Dark Magic.

"Cissy, you've lost your decorating touch," he muttered under his breath as he crept toward the Grand Dining Room, going slowly as possible.

The room had been cleared of the great dining table that Sirius remembered, instead housing only a dais and two large throne-like chairs that seemed to be made of bone, though only was notably smaller than the other. Death Eaters stood silently in the room, seeming to cower before one of the thrones' occupants, who was, surprisingly, not Voldemort. Instead, it was a teenaged boy, probably around Bailey's age, with aristocratic features, light brown hair and cold grey eyes. He was smirking mischievously at the people cowering before them, as though he had just played some glorious prank. Like killing one of them.

Sirius stepped toward the boy, recognizing something familiar in him—the way he held himself, the dimples in his cheek—Sirius was fairly sure he had met the boy before. As he was about to step up onto the dais, he was stopped by the door opening to reveal old Snake Face himself. The Death Eaters all dropped to the floor, kissing Voldemort's feet. The boy, however, didn't bow. He instead kissed the maniac's ring, like Voldmort was a monarch of old or something.

"Bring in the prisoner," Voldemort ordered in his cold voice as he and the boy sat in their respective thrones. "Are you ready?"

"I was born ready, Father," the boy replied. Sirius had to take a step back. Someone had borne Voldemort a child? When had that happened? He felt sick, thinking of his cousin and her obsession.

"That's not true, Augustus," a new voice came. Between two masked Death Eaters was a woman who looked like she was in her fifties, though Sirius could feel the untruth in her appearance. She pulsated with wild power, even though she looked as though she had been tortured and starved for years.

"What is not true, Lady Black?" Voldemort replied with a smirk curling his unnatural features. Sirius felt a chill go down his spine; that emaciated figure was his daughter?

Bailey's eyes did not leave the boy, yet, instead of loathing like Sirius would hope his daughter would show for the progeny of Voldemort, Bailey seemed to be in deep pain, love for the boy shining out from every pore.

"You don't remember the day of your birth, Gussy, I do. And you were not born for this," she said sadly, voice cracking with emotion.

"What is the prisoner talking about, Father?" the boy said, his mask of boredom seemingly cracking.

"Nothing of import, my heir," replied Voldemort coldly.

"I was there, seventeen years ago today," she cried, looking straight at the boy. "Dad had died, but you, you gave Mum so much hope. Hope that I should have held tight to as well. She was so, so happy. And I am so sorry, baby brother. You and Mum paid for my mistakes. But, this is not what you were meant for. I tried, I tried so hard to run, to hide you, but they found you. I am so, so sorry, baby brother."

Sirius gaped between his daughter and the boy, suddenly realizing what he had found so familiar. The boy had his mother's dimples, her hair, his own eyes. Even with Bailey so sickly looking, anyone with eyes could tell that the two were related. They were siblings. The boy—Augustus—was his son.

"I think dear Bella has scrambled our prisoner's head a bit too much," Voldemort said to laughter from the crowd of Death Eaters. But Augustus was staring down Bailey, who was quietly crying.

"And what happened to 'Mum'?" he said in low voice as he stalked towards her. Sirius recognized the haunted look in his son's eyes. He was remembering something. =

"She begged me," Bailey said, hanging her head. "She begged me to protect you, make sure you were kept alive, no matter what—"

"And what did you do?" Augustus said in a dangerous voice. Sirius begged his daughter not to answer. His son grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "Say it!"

"Please, don't make me, Gussy," she begged.

"Don't call me that, you filthy blood traitor," he snarled. "Tell me what happened, and learn some respect for your betters, Lady Black."

She looked up at him, searching for something in him. A look of utter despair came over her when she found what she was looking for. "You remember?"

"Tell. Me."

"Fine. If that makes it easier to do what yeh 'ave to," she said, emotion causing her accent to bleed through. "I killed 'er, Gussy. I'm so sorry, Gussy, I did wha' she asked o' me, I couldn' let 'er suffer anymore fer me mistakes. I—"

She was not able to say anymore as then Augustus muttered a couple of words and all of a sudden cuts appeared all over his sister's body. She sunk to the floor, choking for air.

"Love—you—baby—broth—" she gasped out before her eyes went glassy. Sirius collapsed by his daughter's side.

"How could you, both of you?" he howled. "She was your mother, and she—she was your sister! What is wrong with you, both of you?"

Augustus did not seem to hear; instead he just looked down at his sister, a single tear appearing in his eye, before he turned back to the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

"Our greatest traitor is DEAD!" he shouted. Cheers went up all around him as Voldemort slowly rose and made his way toward Augustus, taking the boy into a firm embrace. Sirius jumped up, ready to tear the man apart, limb by limb, for daring to touch one of his children.

"Well done, my son," Voldemort whispered coldly into his ear. "Your training is complete. All, turn and pay homage to your new Dark Prince!"

With that, the Death Eaters all fell to the floor, kissing Augustus' feet as they had Voldemort's. Sirius felt sick as the scene disappeared before him, making him dizzy.

He had a son. He had a son.


	20. An Heir

**A/N So, I am inexcusably late with this, I know. The muse left me for a while with this story, as I worked on some original stuff. If anyone is still reading, I promise that I will update more frequently with more frequent reviews! And for all of you waiting for Bailey to get her head out of her ass-well, here you go. Let's hope it's not too late. ;)**

That night, Harry and Bailey both stayed in Grimmauld Place, along with Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and, of course, her Mum and brother. Though Bailey desperately wanted to stay in the room with her mum and new brother, Mrs. Weasley all but forced her out. Uncle Remus, of course, was all too amused by her parting.

"Bails, it's really for the best. You'd probably shove your poor mother out of bed!"

He just laughed at the glare she gave him.

As it turned out, Remus had been right, though not for the reason he had given. Just as Bailey drifted off to sleep, she was awoken by a sharp burning pain on her left arm.

"Ah," she groaned as she sat bolt upright in bed. Immediately, her hand clamped around her left forearm, clasping it tightly. She looked down with dread; the Dark Mark was pulsating, seemingly burning ever more deeply into her flesh.

 _Oh dear Merlin_ , she thought to herself as she rolled out of bed quiet as a cat. She knew there were two Order members inside the house, and likely several more standing guard outside. After all, only the highest, best security for her godbrother. She could not risk being seen sneaking out.

Ever-so-carefully, she tiptoed to her school trunk and found her Death Eater robes in a secret compartment, where she'd hidden them in case of such an occurrence. She slipped them under her pajama shirt and made her way through the house and to the barn. Not that it was actually that simple in execution.

As she rounded the corner from the stairs into the kitchen, she ran into a warm body and only just managed to keep hold on the bundle of robes under her shirt.

"Bailey?" Harry mumbled sleepily.

"Shhh!" she hissed. "Go back to bed!"

"What're you doin' up?" he asked, suddenly seeming more awake. His eyes narrowed on the lumpy mass under her shirt.

"Just—"

"I thought you and George had broken up?" he said with a slightly mischievous grin.

"What? We have—"

"Are you getting back together?" he continued. "Or is it someone else? You and Zabini did go to Slughorn's party together—"

"Alright, alright," he said, playfully putting up his hands in surrender. "I get it. I'll just be on my way then."

He walked out, humming a familiar tune that Bailey thought sounded rather like a Frank Sinatra song. Once she heard his door shut, she breathed a sigh of relief—things could have been far worse. Slowly, she began to creep forward again, wincing at the creaking of the door and then at the frigid air that hit her when she stepped foot outside.

She did not relax even slightly until she was inside the barn with the door closed.

 _"_ _Here, Da, I snuck some Christmas ham as well as a bit of Mum's Yule log."_

 _"_ _Thanks, Minnie, it has been too long since I had your mum's cooking. Judging from the lack of burnt edges, she's gotten much better."_

 _"_ _Da, shouldn't we tell her? I'm sure once we explain—"_

 _"_ _Not until we can catch the rat. I was foolish—even your Mum thought I was the Secret Keeper. No, I will have to have proof for your mother."_

"Gahh," Bailey gasped as the pain from her arm intensified. Quickly, she threw her robes over her pajamas and pressed a finger to the writhing Mark. Then, she Disapparated.

She appeared in a room that she recognized immediately as the Malfoys' Dining Room. There were already several others seated around the table, though all had their masks on, so Bailey had no one of knowing who was who. She cursed herself mentally; she had forgotten her own mask. Merlin only knew what secrets and weaknesses she might expose in front of these who would gladly see her fall to gain higher rank for themselves and their children.

"Come forward, young Lady Black," the high, clear voice of Voldemort beckoned. Bailey did so slowly, kneeling down to kiss the hem of his robes. She stayed in that position, waiting for his next command.

"Stand, Lady Black, and give us the good news!" he said. She stood slowly, a knot forming in her gut. "Has your mother borne a healthy son?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And his name?"

"Augustus," she said, choking on her suddenly dry throat. "Augustus Rigel Black."

"A fine name for a future prince," he replied, standing regally.

"Future prince, my lord?" Bailey said slowly.

"Recent discoveries have shown me that I need an insurance policy, if you will," his eyes landed on the portrait of the Malfoy family that hung in the middle of the dining room wall. "If I were to… go away again, who could I trust to bring me back before a decade has passed? Any of you?"

He gestured to the room. No one spoke.

"I require an heir, who will do such things for me. Your brother will be powerful, if you are anything to go by, and he will have the name and money of the Black family backing him. You will bring him to me before he is six months."

"My lord, my mother would never allow Gussy out of her sight, I—"

"The Squib will have no choice if she is dead," he said simply.

Bailey felt her heart stop. She gaped, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. She had done all this to protect her mother and her brother, but he wanted….

"That is the simplest course of action, of course, and would likely be the course of least pain for you and your dear mother," the man—the sub-human—continued. "However you decide to retrieve the boy, I want the boy by the end of June. If you do not complete the task yourself by that time—well, I am sure you can imagine that my wrath will be… unbearable."

Images of her mother, laid out, bloody and gasping in pain flashed through her mind's eye. And then, of dementors, opening their horrible maws—

Bailey knew the images were not her imagination. They were threats.

"As I am a merciful lord, I will allow you this happy time with your family," he said with a saccharine smile. "Go, now, and enjoy this gift of mine."

Bailey all but ran to the Apparition wards of the Malfoys' estate, knowing she could not get through them without a call from Voldemort. But, she did not go home.


	21. Solutions

Remembering her father's and Uncle Rem's stories, Bailey Apparated immediately to the Shrieking Shack and stashed her Death Eater robes. From there she proceeded to traverse the tunnels to the Whomping Willow and stole away into Hogwarts Castle proper, using all her knowledge of secret passageways to get to the Slytherin Common Room. Never had she been so grateful for the twins' antics than right then, as George had shown her the majority of the secret passageways in the castle and she had discovered the rest. Finally, she was able to slip into the Slytherin dungeons and up into Blaise and Draco's dorm.

Having been up there numerous times since she was eleven, Bailey had no problem finding Blaise's four poster in the dark. Quietly she slipped over to his sleeping figure and placed a cool hand over his mouth. He woke with a start, panicked until he made out her figure. She put a finger to her lips and beckoned for him to follow her with her other hand.

"What's going on?" he said as soon as they reached the Common Room. "Did something happen to your mum?"

"Not here," she whispered before pulling him by the hand out the Common Room door and to the Entrance Hall.

"If you're taking me outside, then at least cast a warming charm on me."

"Wimp."

"What?"

"Nothing," Bailey replied as she silently cast the charm and quickly lead the way to the Whomping Willow. As soon as they were in the living room of the Shrieking Shack, Blaise yanked Bailey around to face him.

"Now can you tell me what the hell is going on? Or do we first have to Apparate to bleeding Egypt?" he demanded in a dry tone of voice before taking notice of the Bailey's face. "Bails, Bails, it's ok, it's ok."

She, unable to hold it in anymore, had begun to sob. Immediately he wrapped her up and just held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. That scent of nutmeg and expensive cologne that was just Blaise filled her nostrils.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, trying to push away from him.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, trying to draw her back into his arms. She pushed away again.

"No, no, yes, there is," she said almost hysterical. "Remember when you said doing something stupid was not necessary? It was too late then."

"Bailey—"

The whole story came stumbling out of her mouth then. Like a flood, she could not stem its flow. Somewhere in the story, Blaise lead her to an old couch to sit down, a plume of dust rising as they did so. She did not notice. For his part, Blaise did not say a word, instead just rubbing soothing circles on her back as she spoke. Finally, she finished her horrible tale.

"So, he wants to you to give the baby—" Blaise began.

"And kill my mother, yes," she said.

"And if you don't…?"

"For me and Mum, torture, Dementor's kiss, and eventual death," she said in a monotone, tears all dried up. "And Gussy still is taken."

"Yes, that," he said, clearing his throat. "And your options? Ways out?"

"None to be seen," Bailey said forlornly.

"Don't say that," Blaise replied, nudging her shoulder. "If that were true, you wouldn't have even come to me. There is always a way out."

"Of the Dark Lord's service?" she said skeptically.

"That's a rather harder one, yes… if you weren't the Chosen One's godsister," Blaise said reasonably.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she replied. "Already Obliviated him once last term—he would never help a Death Eater, even one trying to get out."

"Not him himself, of course," Blaise scoffed. "Potter hasn't known you long enough and has little to no influence anyways. Else your family would have raised him since third year. But you have contacts. Within the Order."

Bailey snorted. "I am not going to _Dumbledore_."

"Well obviously," he said, rolling his eyes amiably. "Professor Lupin is your godfather, remember? And if not him—if you'd want to risk it—Professor Snape is your master. Though I'd definitely call him a last resort."

Baily nodded, breathing in deeply.

"Thank you, Blaise, for standing by me," she murmured softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"What did you think I'd do?" he asked, almost insulted.

"Not everyone has done well with the news," she said. He studied her carefully.

"Is this why you and the Weasel broke up?" he asked slowly, as though he was unsure how thin of ice he may be treading on.

"George found me stumblin' 'round drunk—"

" _Drunk_? Like, on alcohol? You?"

"Shutup, Zabini. It was after the Yule revel. I was wandering around Diagon Alley, and he found me, sobered me up—" she choked off slightly. "He found out. Hasn't spoken to me since, probably won't ever. Said he couldn't be in a relationship with… well…"

"It should have been clear why you did it," Blaise growled. "Desperation shouldn't be a reason to break up with someone and refuse to speak to them."

"Blaise, he was right," she croaked. "There were other ways—better ways—I just didn't see it. Or I did, but I-"

"Dumbledore ignored your requests for aid, the Ministry froze all your assets, and your farm was barely staying afloat," he interrupted. "Knowing the Dark Lord, he paid you well, in gold and protection. His sway is something very few can hold up to."

"Thank you Blaise, for what you're trying to do, but—"

"No, between your tendency to beat yourself up and the Dark Lord's to—y'know—you'll be punished plenty," he asserted, leaning in closer to her so he could look her directly in the eyes. "Nothing will make me think less of you, Bails."

She shifted ever so slightly closer to him. His eyes flickered downwards to her lips as he leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting over her face. Just as he leaned in fully to meet her lips, she shoved away from him, suddenly tearful again.

"I can't, Blaise," she said, not daring to look him in the face and see the hurt that was sure to be there. "Not that I don't wa—not that I don't lo—"

"You're not over Weasley, are you?" he said in a low voice.

"No, Blaise, it's not that," she said, shaking her head with a rueful laugh. "I can't do this right now. I am a dead girl walking as soon as I don't deliver my little brother. Before then. I can't drag someone into my mess."

"Let me decide that for myself, huh?" he said softly, leaning in again. Despite her better judgement, she pushed him away again.

"My mother is already in danger because of me. My baby brother is less than a day old and he is in danger because of me," she said slowly, looking determinedly at the floor. "You can't be in danger because of me, too. I'd never forgive myself. I won't as it is."

Blaise looked down as well. She had not realized until then that he was still rubbing her arms soothingly. He was likely already in danger from her. But, she would not allow him to fall for her even further when she was fated to die.

"Alright," he said. "Alright."

Blaise whistled a merry tune as he drew closer to the Slytherin Common Room just a couple hours before dawn. In some ways, things could not be more hopeless… yet, in other ways, it could not be less so. He stopped his whistling abruptly when he realized his whistles were not the only ones echoing down the corridor.

Draco was coming back to the Common Room from the opposite side, looking somewhat disheveled, but surprisingly happy. The boys' eyes met across the hall.

"Where've you been?" they said at the same time.

"Nowhere," they replied in unison.

Both sized the other up suspiciously.

"Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies?"

"Deal."

Both boys dreamed very well that night.


	22. Mercy from a Werewolf

**A/N: So this is one of the first chapters that I wrote for this, so please let me know if there is any incontinuities. I did my best to edit this chapter to fit in with the rest. Please read and review!**

Bailey and Harry stayed for two days at Grimmauld Place with her mother and the new baby, all the while Bailey was trying fiercely not to think on the Dark Lord's demands. She would enjoy his so-called 'gift' of time with her family. Unfortunately, the full moon had approached, making it impossible for her to approach her godfather for help. Luckily, the two had a long-standing tradition of having tea together on the week-ends, even if it had fallen by the wayside. Revitalizing said tradition would have to be her saving grace.

Until then, however, she would just have to wait on pins and needles…

"Minnie!" the werewolf said merrily across the street as he opened the door to see his goddaughter. Bailey grinned and bounced into the small, cozy apartment to give him a huge hug.

"Moony!" she cried as she embraced him. She fought to keep her happy façade strong. "I'm so glad we could do this again."

"Well, of course," he replied fondly. "Nothing barring death could keep me from my favorite goddaughter."

Bailey bit her lip nervously and Remus frowned.

"Is there something bothering you, cub?" he asked concernedly.

"I-I," she stuttered, tears beginning to pool. Uncle Rem frowned again.

"Come," he said. "Let's get that tea started, huh?"

"Okay," she said softly, looking at her shoes. The two quickly settled into the familiar routine of making tea together—Bailey arranging biscuits and cakes on a plate as Uncle Rem heated the tea kettle.

"You know, Minnie, I'm proud of you," he said as he put the pot on to brew. "I was worried, at first, when I found out that you had been Sorted into Slytherin. I know of some of your classmates', erm, leanings," the pot began to steam, so he poured it into cups and brought her one and sat down, "and I am so proud that you've remained so resolutely light. I know that these past few months have been hard, but-"

Bailey's teacup was clattering against the plate her hands were shaking so hard. She was sure that someone must have been enjoying her discomfort for Remus to have said that then. She took in a deep breaths and interrupted him.

"I haven't," she said tightly.

"Excuse me?" Uncle Rem said looking confused. "Minnie, there's no reason that you ought to try and be strong. I know that it's been rough since you Da-"

"No, not that," she said, feeling bile rise in her throat. It burned there. She had to do this. If she didn't, there would be no saving her mum and little Gussy. She had to tell her godfather what she had done. It was her just punishment if he never looked at her in the same way again.

"Then what do you mean?"

Bailey gulped. "I haven't been... 'resolutely light', Moony."

He stared at her blankly for a few moments, then began to laugh. "Are you talking about that certain little hex that you hit Ginny with at Headquarters last year? Because that was quite funny, actually-"

"No, Uncle Rem..." she said. "I-I... Daphne Greengrass came to me at the end of last year."

The color began to drain from his face as he slowly stood to his feet. "Minerva, this is not the sort of thing you should joke about..."

"I-I'm so-sorry," she sobbed. "H-he said that he would pro-protect Mum and Gussy! An-and n-n-now he is threatening to k-kill her!"

Uncle Rem, face unreadable, grabbed her left arm and yanked up the sleeve. His face went pale.

"He wa-wants me to kill Mum b-by the e-en-end of ter-term," she sobbed. "And then bring Riel to be raised by him, as an heir! But-I-I c-c-can't!"

Uncle Rem crossed the room to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet and took a long swig from it before coming back to the living room. She looked up into his face, hoping to detect some semblance of sympathy.

There was none.

He was looking at her in utter revulsion, like one would a cockroach. She looked back at the floor, unable to endure such a look from her beloved godfather.

"What have you done?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "What would your father think?"

Her shoulders were shaking from sobs. "D-d-dumbledore didn't k-ke-keep Da safe!" she practically shouted. She looked back up at him desperately. "D-dad woulda wa-wanted m-me to keep her safe! An-and Du-dumbledore don't give a damn about Slytherins!"

Uncle Rem looked stoic, still giving her that look of revulsion.

"You and I both know that this is not what Sirius wanted," he snarled. "Sirius would have been ashamed to be your father, just as ashamed as his is to be related to most of his family. How could you betray us—betray _him_ —like this?"

Bailey stood up, anger rising within her. "YOU IGNORED ME!" she shouted in earnest. "You and Dumbledore both left me to tell my own mother that HER husband, MY father, was DEAD!"

"And it was obviously the wrong Black who died if this is what you would do! Your father—Sirius—him and Andromeda were the only good ones from the lot of you! Monsters! All of you!"

She stopped at that. The doubts that had been going around her mind all year had just been voiced by her favorite man in the world. But, Bailey could not afford to show that to him, not now. She would never had expected that Remus Lupin of all people would know how to kick a person when they are down.

Unfortunately for him, so did Minerva Bailey Ann Black. "I should have known better than to come to you," she snarled. "You are really one to talk about being a monster. What was I thinking, asking mercy from a werewolf? At least I am human, you filthy beast! You're no better than Greyback!"

She began to walk through the door as Remus began to get over his shock.

"Minerva, you get back here, or I'll-"

"Or you'll what?" she asked viciously, spinning around to face him. "Call the Aurors? Tell them the Wizarding World's sweetheart is a Death Eater? I have ways to hide this Mark! And then, you'll have no proof!"

"I'll just show them my memories, then."

"I doubt that," she hissed before pulling out her wand. "Obliviate."

She ran out of the apartment before he remembered she was there.


	23. Sectumsempra

**A/N: It's not Valentine's, but romance is definitely in the air! We finally get to see Draco's secret girlfriend, Bailey and Blaise have another ~moment~ and everything is wonderful. (Except, not really.) On with the chapter! Read and Review!**

Over the next week following her disastrous visit to Remus', both Bailey and Draco became more and more withdrawn from their friends. Draco kept disappearing to Merlin knew where while Bailey could reliably be found puttering away in her lab. She pretended not to notice the way Amelia kept piling extra food on her plate or that Blaise and Harry had begun conspiring together out of concern for her. She truly did not notice, however, the near lethal obsession that her godbrother had begun to have with her cousin.

She was in her lab that day, making yet more potion to stop tremors. Even if she was planning on deserting, Bailey still needed the income brewing potions for the Death Eaters brought in. She was stopped in her process so suddenly that her alarms barely had time to fully engage before someone burst through the door.

"What the hell?" Bailey shouted, waving her wand to stop the blaring wails going through the room. Hermione Granger stood before her in a panic, bushy hair seeming to grow with each passing moment.

"Come quick," Granger said, face pale as a ghost. "Get all the blood replenishers you can."

Bailey rushed to do so, motioning the other girl to help.

"What has Harry got himself into this time?" Bailey asked, trying to mask her own rising panic.

"Not Harry—well, yes, Harry is involved of course, I told him that stupid book—"

"Granger. Who's hurt?"

"It's Draco," the other girl said, practically in a panic attack. "Harry used some sort of Dark curse—from that awful book I am sure—and Draco is in the Hospital Wing! Dying!"

"What sort of spell?" Bailey asked, refusing to panic herself as she reset the wards to the Potions lab as she left it. There would be time for panic later.

"I dunno—some sort of slicing spell, he has deep cuts all over himself, he was bleeding profusely," Granger was all but babbling. Bailey motioned for her to lead the way to the Hospital Wing.

Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape were hovering over a cot in the back corner when the girls arrived, arms laden with potion bottles. Granger charged forward, setting the bottles down on a table beside Draco, while Bailey lingered slightly in the background, shocked by the deathly appearance of her cousin and friend. It was the first time she had truly taken in his appearance since before the incident with the poison.

Draco had always been overly pale, but it was more than that now—he was downright _gray_. Dark purple circles were under his eyes and he no longer had the lean, toned muscle of a Quidditch player, but instead was scrawny, boney even. His hair—which had forever been a point of pride for him—was limp and greasy, stuck to his head by a sheen of sweat.

"Dear Merlin," Bailey murmured to herself.

"Is that more blood replenishers? Good," Madame Pomfrey said, bustling over to the girls. "Were these from Professor Snape's stores?"

"Not mine, but my Apprentice's," Snape said. At the Matron's apprehensive look, he added, "They are just as good. Come, Ms. Black, hurry."

Bailey did as she was told, not even allowing the praise to fully sink in. Professor Snape at once uncorked two bottles and poured them down Draco's throat as Granger looked on fearfully. As the four watched in tense silence, some of the (albeit, little) color returned to his face. His eyes fluttered open, dull but alive nonetheless.

"Should've… let me… go…" he muttered, no energy in him. The look on Professor Snape's face darkened as Granger held in shuddery tears.

"Never, Mr. Malfoy, would I let one of my students go."

He looked straight at Bailey. She looked away.

"Mione… that you?" Draco rasped, sounding in pain yet happy at the same time. Granger moved forward so that he could see her more easily.

"Yeah, Dray, I'm right here," she said in a breathy voice. Draco gave the ghost of a smile before holding out a shaky hand. Bailey's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the exchange and nearly opened her mouth to say something before Madame Pomfrey began to close the curtains around the two and lead Master and Apprentice out of the Infirmary.

"Neither of you will say anything about Ms. Granger's presence here," Professor Snape said before they went through the doors. He looked straight at Bailey even as Madame Pomfrey gasped in righteous indignation.

"Gracious me, Severus, you of all people ought to know I would never!" she exclaimed. "You just see if I call for you next time!"

"I brought the boy to you," Professor Snape corrected blandly even as Madame Pomfrey was already moving away to her office. He continued to stare down Bailey.

"Never, sir," she said in a measure tone that belied the icy grasp around her heart. "I am loyal to none but my own," she said, quoting one of the Slytherin credos. "And Draco is my own."

Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she waited for her mentor to respond, terrified that she had said the wrong thing to the wrong person. After a few moments of careful study, he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That is a relief to hear, my Apprentice. I hope you know that you are one of mine," he said. He paused a moment, tightening his grasp on her shoulder ever-so-slightly in comfort before turning and leaving the Hospital Wing in a whoosh of billowing black robes.

When Bailey arrived in the Common Room, she immediately sought out Blaise and Amelia before they could hear of Draco's state from anyone else. Luckily, both of her friends were studying in the same corner, so she was able to grab them and take them upstairs to the boys' dorm without too much hassle.

"Bailey, what's going on?" Amelie said as they opened the door to Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode in a rather compromising position.

"Get some clothes on and get out before I take points!" Bailey ordered, pointing at the door.

"You can't do that—" Nott began.

"Ten points!" Bailey snapped "Do you really want to try me, Nott?"

"C'mon, Theo, Snape's been rubbing off on her," Bulstrode murmured, slipping her shirt on. With one more glare, the two left the room. Bailey quickly locked the door and placed a Silencing Charm on it.

"Please, Bails," Blaise said. "You're scaring us. What's happened now?"

Bailey met Blaise's eyes for a moment and was able to allay one of his fears—she had not seen the Dark Lord since that fateful day so, for now, she and her family were safe. He relaxed slightly.

"Draco was attacked—by Harry—and it looks really bad. He's lost a lot of blood—he's stable, but not out of the woods. Madame Pomfrey's keeping him for Merlin knows how long," Bailey said in halting voice. Amelia was already headed towards the door. "Where're yeh going?"

"Diction," she snapped unthinkingly, trying to move around Bailey, who was blocking her way. "I'm going to the Hospital Wing!"

"Pomfrey's not letting anybody in!" Bailey exclaimed, trying to cover for her friend's secret. "She even kicked out me and Snape!"

"Excuse me, but betrothed has more rights than cousin or Head of House," Amelia said primly. "Now let me go!"

"That's just a title, Lia," Blaise pointed out calmly.

"Well, _obviously_ ," Amelia sniffed disdainfully. "But it is a title that I intend to use to my advantage!"

She shoved around Bailey finally and sashayed out of the room determinedly. Blaise and Bailey stood staring awestruck after her.

"Granger with Draco right now?" Blaise said.

"How did you know?"

"Already knew they were a thing, remember?" he said. "As for her current location specifically, I'm incredibly good at reading you," he finished with a wink.

Bailey smiled bashfully and stared at her toes awkwardly. She and Blaise had not spoken one on one since the Shrieking Shack, since she had told him about becoming a Death Eater and certain... other things had come out as well. People had always teased their close bond, and, to be honest, she had always known exactly why. Neither had admitted their feelings in the truest sense of the words; they had not needed to, it was all in the open now.

She was distracted when a pair of nice men's leather loafers entered her vision. Before she dared to look up, she felt a pair of hands softly gliding up and down her arms and warm breath tickling the top of her head.

"If Draco can risk dating a muggleborn in _his_ position," Blaise said in a low voice, "then surely we can do it. Everyone already knows we'd do anything for the other—there is no more danger to be had."

Bailey sighed and looked up at him. There was hope in his dark brown eyes, and love, and something indefinable that was somehow dark and wonderful and scary and delicious all at the same time.

"Blaise, Draco didn't want to be saved today," Bailey said, trying to convey fears and concerns that she didn't fully understand herself. But, Blaise had always been good at understanding her ramblings.

"Oh yeah? And what did Snape say?" he challenged in a soft, husky voice as he leaned his forehead against hers. He swayed her gently from side to side.

"That—that," Bailey began in an overly breathy voice that made her cringe inwardly. "That he won't let any of his students go."

"So stop worrying," Blaise said drawing her ever closer. "He will help you. Go to him, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"You think the bat of the dungeons has weekend plans?" Blaise scoffed lightly. "He'll help you, even if stupid Lupin wouldn't. And allow this—allow us—to…"

Blaise trailed off as he tightened his grip on her, sliding his hands from her arms to her waist. Instinctively, Bailey reached her arms around his neck as they swayed to music that only lovers could hear. One of his hands tangled in her dark hair as she pressed herself ever closer to him.

A sharp banging came at the door. Bailey gripped Blaise tighter in fear.

"Open up, Black, Zabini, before I go get someone to take point for you just trying to get a snog in!" came Nott's angry voice.

Blaise chuckled. "See? Everyone already assumes," he said as he leaned in. Bailey placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away, a wide smirk on her face.

"Yes, but now the mood has been killed," she teased, slithering out of his grasp and walking to the door in the way that Amelia claimed made all the boys around her slack-jawed. She opened the door to see Nott fuming and red-faced. "For the record, Nott, we weren't snogging."

At his ungainly snort, Bailey turned back and gave the disappointed looking Blaise a playful wink.

"Yet."

Amelia was waiting for her when she returned to their dorm room. Silently, the other girl crawled into Bailey's bed, charming the curtains closed and impermeable.

"Granger?" she finally exclaimed. "I mean—could've predicted that—but Merlin! That boy!"

Bailey could not help it. She dissolved into giggled with her best girlfriend.


	24. Hope for the Future

The next Defense Against the Dark Arts class was tense. Harry had tried to sit down next to Bailey, but Blaise had shunted him out of the way at the last moment, both of the Slytherins giving him nasty glares. Granger, it seemed, had specifically taken a seat with Longbottom, upset with her usual cohorts as she was. Professor Snape, it seemed, was loathing Harry more than ever, docking points as he gave a timely lecture on only using spells of which you are familiar with in battle. While all was fair in love and war, one should always be aware of the damage he or she may inflict.

Luckily after class it seemed that all of the Gryffindors collectively lost their courage and fled from the room, her wayward godbrother included. As the Slytherins put away their belongings and left the room in a much more graceful manner, Blaise gave Bailey a significant look, to which she nodded nervously. He waited until most of their classmates were gone before squeezing her hand in a comforting manner and making his exit as well. She took a deep breath and approached her mentor's desk.

"Miss Black?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "What are you still doing here?"

"I need your help, Professor," she said. "And you're the only one who can help me. I know for a fact that you are not on the Dark Lord's side. Not truly."

"Miss Black, whatever are you-"

"Don't fool with me, Snape!" she warned, feeling more than a little on edge. "I've been your student for nigh on six years, now, and your Apprentice for over a year. You may have the look of a Death Eater, but you do not have the heart of one. You would not have acted so disappointed in me this year if you did."

Snape gave Bailey a hard look before quickly ushering her into his office. It looked no different than when he was a Potions Professor than now that he was a DADA professor.

"Explain."

So Bailey told her sordid little tale. Feeling guilty over her father's death, worried that she wouldn't be able to protect her mum. Greengrass approaching her, her meeting the Dark Lord and feeling as though she might be safe there. Soon realizing what an idiot she had been, but it being too late. The order to kill her mother and hand over sweet little Augustus to be the Dark Lord's heir. Panicking, scared of what to do. Uncle Rem refusing to talk to her. Knowing that Dumbledore only cared for his precious Gryffindorks, or so many things would have been better. Snape sat there through it all, staring at her over his fingertips as though she was an insect he was about to boil for a potion.

He waited forever after she had finished before he finally spoke.

"You were always the last one I had expected to..." he muttered then shook his head. "All is not lost. I can go to the Headmaster and-"

"No!" she hissed. "Dumbledore doesn't give a rat's arse about us Slytherins, not even you. There isn't room for another spy in the Dark Lord's ranks, we all know that. And I can't endanger Mum and the baby further. Da would have wanted me to take care of them."

Snape rubbed his temples, muttering something under his breath. Probably something about wishing he'd never become a teacher. Finally he looked up, obviously startled to find that Bailey had dissolved into tears.

"I'm sorry, professor," she choked out. "I just... I don't know what to do. I don't know how in the world I ended up like this. Please... I don't care if I die... By now I deserve it. I just... my mum. She's a Squib. She can do a lot of things, but stand up to Death Eaters? Please... She needs to stay safe! I can do a lot of things, but I can't responsible for the deaths of my mum and my brother!"

Snape then did something completely unexpected. He walked around his desk and gently placed a hand on Bailey's shoulder, handing her a handkerchief. She looked at him in shock, before quickly drying her eyes.

"You do not deserve death for falling prey to the Dark Lord. Many people have done that; you, at least, had noble intentions," Snape said. Dark shadows swam around his eyes. "I will help you. Do not worry."

Bailey bit her lip and looked up at him hopefully. "Will Mum and the baby really be okay? Not like Dumbledore said Da would be last year and then he fell through the Veil? She'll really be okay?"

"We—you and I—will do everything in our power to make sure of it. That is a promise you can trust," he said, a note of bitterness to his voice. "Here is what you are going to do. Leave the rest to me."

Snape outlined a new potion he'd been working on. He said that it wouldn't react to anything (almost). She could spell it so that it would give and take from the recipient whatever memories the giver so chose.

"Isn't that like Obliviate?" she asked.

Snape snorted and said that it was far safer and it would not be broken by anyone "with evil intentions". After administering the potion, Bailey would send her mother far away, though not to an exact location. No one, not even Bailey, could know where Tilly O'Bailey-Black was if this was to work. Bailey was beginning to see hope once more.

"Thank you, professor," she said before leaving. "You've no idea how much this means to me."

Snape gave a curt nod. "Oh, and, Miss Black?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Maybe now that you are no longer so distracted by survival you could try getting back to your _original_ research?"

Bailey blushed and said she'd try before rushing from the room.

Suddenly, things didn't seem so bleak.


	25. Happiness is a Dream

**A/N: Hey, look at this, fairly regular updates! Now if only I could get some fairly regular reviews going...**

 **So I think there are only a few chapters left in this part of Bailey's story before we move on to the dreaded seventh year. So I've got some questions for you:**

 **1\. Does anyone want more of Sirius' adventures beyond the Veil in this story?**

 **2\. Bailey will be out of commission for undisclosed reasons in the next book. Who are some people whose perspectives you'd like to hear from? Draco? Blaise? Amelia? Uncle Rem? Perhaps even Tilly's (wherever she ends up?)**

 **3\. Are you frustrated yet with Blaise and Bailey's relationship interruptions? ;)**

 **As always, thanks for reading and please review!**

"So did you talk to him?" Blaise said as she left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder.

"Yes, of course," she said as matter-of-factly as she could manage. Not only was a corridor not the place to speak of such things, she enjoyed watching Blaise squirm. It was the little things in life, after all.

"And?"

"And what?" she said, continuing to feign ignorance.

"What happened?"

"Well, I am still breathing," she said. At his frustrated heave of air, she smiled, deciding to grant him some small amount of mercy. "And I reckon I may stay that way a little while longer."

She squeaked as Blaise grabbed her by the wrist and spun her into his hard chest. He grabbed her tightly by the waist, eliciting no few catcalls from others in the corridor. Before he was able to finally kiss her, however, a menacing and all-too-familiar voice came from behind the pair.

"Mr. Zabini, as strong as your pubescent hormones no doubt are, please remove yourself from my Apprentice at once," Professor Snape said, walking up behind Blaise.

"Sir, I—"

"You've pined after her for years, Mr. Zabini, I know you have more self-control than this display would suggest," he said dryly before turning to Bailey. "And I do believe you may skip Level 10 of your mastery potions, Lady Black."

Bailey flushed scarlet as her mentor crossed his arms over his chest in a facsimile of fatherly disappointment, even as bemusement glittered in his eyes.

"Yes, my master," she said in a choked voice.

He walked away, cloak billowing dramatically behind as the students around them rushed to deliver the new gossip (and, secondarily, to their next class). Blaise turned to her, the question obvious on his face.

"What are the Level 10 potions?" he asked, referring to the standard set of brews an Apprentice must perfect before continuing to their Mastery.

Bailey flushed further. "Love potions and aphrodisiacs."

He stared at her for a few moments with a blank expression. Then he began to laugh uncontrollably. Bailey gaped at him for a few moments, then a few giggles broke through, and then a few more before soon the two best of friends were laughing wholeheartedly as they leaned on each other for support.

Bailey was on the last ones to dinner every night that week, coming into the Great Hall fifteen minutes before dinner ended. She had done as Snape asked and returned to her original research, coming to break through after break through before finally discovering a note of white Wolfsbane plant in the Andes mountain that might just bring the control to a werewolf that they so desperately needed on the night of the full moon. Luckily, the full moon coincided with the weekend that month, so her mentor would be taking her to search out the plant and hopefully the last piece of the puzzle of her Mastery research.

Of course, this little 'field trip' would also give them time to plan her family's escape away from the watchful eyes of both Dumbledore and the children of the Death Eaters.

It seemed, however, that she was not the only one late to dinner. As she began to serve herself a hearty helping of shepherd's pie. Someone slid into the seat next to her. The small amount of conversation going on around her came to a sudden halt. Bailey glared at the boy in scarlet.

"What the hell d'yeh think you're doing, Potter?" she ground out between clenched teeth. She glared at her Housemates around her, who were trying to eavesdrop with various levels of skill. They all immediately looked away. The Black temper was not to be trifled with.

"Bails, I'm sorry, I didn't know what—"

"That is beyond obvious," she cut him off, knowing that he was referencing Draco's current state in the Hospital Wing.

"Yes, well," he coughed. "Please, we're fa—"

Bailey's eyes flashed, mentally cursing her godbrother's Sorting. He was so dense.

"You need to leave, Potter."

"But—"

"Now, before I dock points."

He stood up, glaring down at her, ready to snap back something vicious (for a Gryffindor), but not before she could continue.

"Do you _require_ your ears checked, Potter?"

Comprehension dawned on his face before he gulped down the insult he had been about to give and made his way hastily to the Gryffindor table. The other Slytherins were openly gawking at her as he left. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Potter is under the delusion that he can benefit from the Black prestige and Gringotts account simply because it turned out that my father was his godfather," Bailey scoffed, drawing on every bit of haughtiness that Amelia had drilled into her head. "Eventually I will disavow him of such a silly notion, just as soon as my words manage to permeate his thick skull."

Her housemates laughed somewhat nastily, pointing at her godbrother's retreating form before returning to their puddings. Bailey relaxed marginally. Handling two crises concurrently was exhausting.

Within half an hour, she was in the Room of Requirement waiting for her godbrother. As soon as he entered the room, she walked over to him and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

"What the—"

"Has anyone done that to you before?" Bailey asked.

"No, why—"

She slapped him again. He was holding his cheek now and watching her warily. He backed up a few steps, fingering his wand in his pocket, obviously ready to cast a hasty protego should she show signs of hitting him again.

"Could you please explain _why_ you are trying to maim me?" he said.

"Firstly, you of all people should know that a slap does not maim a person," she began imperiously. "Secondly, because you used an unknown spell on my cousin—Draco. I know you well enough to know that you had no clue what you were doing to him—but do you realize that not only did you nearly kill him, you could have killed yourself? After all the people who've fought to keep you alive?"

Harry lowered his head and Bailey thought that she may have been a bit out of line with that last statement, but she could not stop. There was too much riding on making sure Harry knew better than to associate with her right now.

"Then you go and sit with me at the _Slytherin_ table? Merlin, Harry, are you trying to kill me or kill yourself?"

He frowned. "What happened to that 'not all Slytherins are Death Eaters' rant you go on every couple of weeks?"

"They're not," Bailey said haughtily. "But current tensions… Harry, it would really be better if you weren't seen associating with me right now. Times are… dangerous."

Harry grabbed her wrists, concern written across his face as she prayed that her shirt sleeve would not ride up. She already knew what would happen if it did.

"Are you in danger, Bails?" Harry demanded. "Because I can go to Dumbledore—or maybe McGonagall—and you could stay in Gryffindor Tower—"

"Potter, don't be naïve," she scoffed. "As if I'd be welcome in the Lion's Den."

"You forget—I'm the Chosen One—"

"And you never use that fact to your advantage and you ought not waste it on me," Bailey asserted, marveling at the lack of self-preservation to be found in Gryffindors. "Besides the awful migraines I would no doubt get from all that red and gold, I've plenty of friends in Slytherin to watch my back—"

"I think Zabini is watching a _lot_ more than your back—"

"I've heard about your rather… enthusiastic greeting for your replacement Seeker—do you really want to start down that line of mockery, Potter? Because you know in a battle of wits I will win."

He flushed red. "I resent that."

"Duly noted," she said. "I am staying in Slytherin and you are staying away from me, got it?"

"For how long?" he said in a contrived neutral tone. Bailey felt her heart clench at the guarded look in his eyes.

"Harry…"

"You're the closest thing to family I got left," he said, refusing to look at her. "Remember?"

She looked down, realizing the full extent to which she would be hurting her godbrother by this plan; the boy had lost so many people already. But, it would work out in the long run, if she did what she needed to do and he did what he needed to do.

Wouldn't it?

"Not until we—" she choked off, having a harder time telling this lie than any Slytherin ought, "until we go home."

"Bailey, are you sure everything is okay?" Harry said again.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said, giving him a thin smile. "See? I'm even smiling."


	26. Wolfsbane

**A/N: We are nearing the end! I think that after this is done, it may be awhile before the 3rd story is up. I first want to go back and edit the first two. There were several details that I forgot to put in that are actually fairly important as the story goes on., as well as discoveries I've made about the characters. May even find a way to tie in stuff from the Cursed Child. Read and review!**

In two nights' time, Bailey was still in her robes well after curfew, packing up her potions kit. Though she did prefer to be the first to bed on weekends, her dormmates were not unaccustomed to her having late nights, even if they did find it unseemly.

"You are the Lady of a Most Noble and Ancient House, Minerva Bailey Ann," Amelia would say about once a week. "Being out all hours of the night leaning over smelly cauldrons does not become your station!"

Bailey smiled at the snoring form of her pretentious friend. Though she put on airs like none other, even Amelia drooled and snored in her slumber. Shaking her head, Bailey wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and left the dormitory. She was stopped in the Common Room by a most unwelcome person.

"Lady Black," a snide voice came from one of the wing-backed chairs. Bailey turned to see Daphne Greengrass. "Where are you going so late?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I am gathering herbs with my Potions Master," she replied primly.

"You know, I'm truly surprised at you, Black," Greengrass continued. "I am sure you realize that the Dark Lord demands loyalty to himself above all else. He's already waiting for you to remove your familial ties—you really want to force him to order you exterminate some romantic entanglement as well?"

Bailey willed herself not to show fear.

"I broke up with Weasley months ago—one prank too many," she hedged.

"You know I'm not talking about Weasley," Greengrass replied, picking nonchalantly at her nails ( _claws_ ). "I'm talking about Zabini."

"Blaise and I are allies—"

"Don't give me that, Black, this entire House knows better," the other girl scoffed derisively.

"If you want to try and put a target on Blaise's back, be my guest," Bailey challenge, thinking quickly. "My mother may not be of import to this House, but he certainly is. He is an old Pureblood with connections all over the continent and Britain—his House can wipe yours out. Remind me, how far is it that the Greengrass family goes? The eighteenth century? The nineteenth? Blaise and I both can trace our family trees to Merlin and beyond."

The other girl blushed and opened her mouth to say something, but Bailey stopped her.

"Be careful that you don't reach so far that you can no longer see your hand, Greengrass," Bailey said, giving a sneer worthy of Draco. "You might not have a hand to draw back."

She did not even realize when it was that she had done it, but Bailey had drawn her wand. Greengrass was staring at her in open-mouthed fear. Both girls knew that Bailey was the more powerful—both in magical strength and in political weight. Even if the latter would disappear as soon as Bailey made known her betrayal to the Dark Lord.

Greengrass sagged in relief as Bailey lowered her wand. She studied Bailey's face with trepidation before speaking again.

"Make sure that you either get your job done or die in a way that your body is found immediately."

Bailey glared at her, even as her heart thumped wildly, but allowed the other girl to go to bed before continuing out of the Common Room to meet Snape.

"Are you ready, Lady Black?" he asked as soon as she arrived.

"Yes sir," she said. They could not speak openly while still in the castle.

"Remember to keep your wand out—it is the full moon," he said before pulling an empty potion bottle from his robe. "Take hold of this."

Bailey scrunched her nose. She hated portkeys. But, she took hold of the object anyway and immediately felt a jerk behind her navel. In less than half-a-minute she and her master had landed on hard ground, Bailey stumbling forward a bit. Professor Snape reached out a hand to steady her. She opened her mouth to say something, but he placed a finger over his mouth just as a wolf began to howl in the not-far-away-enough distance.

"We can speak when we get to the site and can place proper wards," he said.

They began to climb the forested mountain, Bailey gripping her wand ever tight each time she heard another howl or noise. Finally, they came to a grove of ancient looking trees, all standing in a circle. In the very center of that circle was her quarry—a blossoming white Wolfsbane plant. The air all but vibrated with magic.

Her master immediately set to placing protective spells over the grove so that no visitors—lupine or otherwise—could get to them. Bailey set down her potions kit gently near the plant before looking back at him.

"I have to be killed," she said without preamble. His eyebrows rose. "Or at least it has to _really_ look like it."

"Please explain further, Lady Black," he said. So she told him about her encounter with Greengrass in the Common Room earlier that night. He nodded sharply.

"I don't think we need to take such drastic measures as your death," he said dryly, "but a fake death may just be necessary. You need not worry about Mr. Zabini—his death would only alienate the Continent from the Dark Lord's cause."

Bailey nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. She had been correct in her assumptions.

"As for how to fake your death—what are the anti-fire wards like at Grimmauld Place?"

"Considering how many people my grandmother burned off the family tree, they are the best in Britain," she said wryly. The elder Lady Black had not been overly careful about stray sparks when she was in a fit, according to Bailey's father, which forced her grandfather to enact powerful enchantments over the place to keep it from burning to the ground every time a family member was disowned by Walburga Black.

"Alright—what about the farm?"

"There are only the basics there—protection wards and notice-me-not charms…" she trailed off, heart clenching. She was fairly certain of Snape's plan now, and she could not imagine doing that to her childhood home.

"I am sure you know your cousin is planning something. We will say that you ran and sent your brother to the Continent. I don't want to know where he is really headed," he said, holding up a hand.

"Good, I wasn't going to tell you," Bailey muttered. Professor Snape ignored her.

"I will go after you, as it were, trap what will be assumed to be you and your family—really just some pieces of complex Transfiguration—and burn it to the ground. The 'bodies' with be naught but dust."

Bailey nodded, a lump in her throat.

"You must leave something in the ashes, however, that can be easily identified as yours," he continued.

"My wand?"

He gave her a look that clearly said she was daft.

"No not your wand, stupid child," he sneered dryly. "Perhaps your House's signet ring?"

Bailey was already shaking her head. "Not only do I rarely wear it, if the Black ring were to find its way into Bellatrix's hands that would mean Voldemort having access to a vault that would make the Malfoys look like paupers."

Snape frowned, pacing. Then his eyes alighted on her wrist, where she always wore an old charm bracelet.

"Are you known to have that?"

"My charm bracelet?" Bailey asked. "Well I suppose it is the one Black family tradition my father adhered to—even sent me charms while he was still in Azkaban… before I even knew who he was…"

"Then that should do," the professor said nonchalantly. Bailey inhaled sharply, as though she had just been given a blow to the stomach. She grasped her wrist protectively. Of course, Snape noticed. "I know that the situation is far from desirable, Bailey, but it is that bracelet or the lives of you and your remaining family."

Her master's voice had softened somewhat as he said this. Bailey nodded and slowly unclasped her bracelet.

"Be sure to get it to Narcissa," she said. "Then I may perhaps get it back someday."

Professor Snape nodded. Bailey handed the bracelet to him before turning away to compose herself.

"Shall we?" she said as she began to harvest the herbs.

By the end of the week, Draco was out of the Hospital Wing. She saw neither hide nor hair of Harry, though she had heard that he was making an awful lot of visits to the Headmaster's office. The rumor was that he was receiving some sort of special training. The second week, she finished her potion with results so wonderful that he godfather cried for joy when she told him. It would not cure lycanthropy, but the change would not leave wolves vulnerable while still leaving their human minds. Then came the third. The third week, Draco came up to her and whispered in her ear.

"Tomorrow."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. And then she began to prepare.


	27. The Escape

**A/N: Here is the final chapter (with an epilogue yet to be posted). While I have begun part 3, I am first going through parts 1 & 2 and doing some editing and revising, as I believe there are some continuity issues/things I forgot about that make an appearance in the next part. (I've had this story or parts of it figured out for ages, so there were just some details I forgot about.) Anywho, please read and review! Thank you to my new reviewers on my last chapter, as well as my new reviewer on The Lost Heir!**

At lunch time, Bailey escaped back to her dorm to load all her necessities into her school satchel, (which Gemma Farley, a graduated Slytherin Prefect, had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on in her third year). She carefully placed both her own and her father's mirror on the top. As she finished packing, the door opened.

"Had to run back for supplies—y'know, that time of the—Blaise," Bailey said in a rush, cutting herself off abruptly. "You're not supposed to be up here."

"Since when have Slytherins accepted arbitrary rules?" Blaise teased. He waved his wand at the door, muttering a Silencing Charm. "Now, would you like to tell me the real reason you're skipping lunch?"

Bailey bit her lip nervously.

"It's time, isn't it?" he asked, any trace of joviality lost from his features. Bailey fished in her bag for her father's old mirror. With shaking hands, she handed it to him.

"Just say my name—but only when you're all alone," Bailey said in a rush. "And don't try to use for a while, either, huh?"

"Bails, I—" he began. "Just stay here for a second, yeah?"

Before Bailey could give her answer either way, he had already rushed out of the room. She stood nervously in the middle of the room. He reappeared with a long, narrow box.

"Your seventeenth is in two days," he said handing it to her hurriedly. "And I got this for you."

Bailey opened it slowly. Inside was a finely wrought thin silver chain with a delicate pendant hanging from it—two small hands holding an emerald heart with a crown overtop of it. Bailey gasped and looked up at him.

"A claddagh," she whispered. "You know what that means, right?"

"It's a symbol of love, friendship, and loyalty, which I believe sums us up nicely," he said with a hint of a nervous smile. He picked up the necklace and unclasped it. "May I?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and lifted her hair so that he could place it around her neck. But, when he was finished, he did not remove his hands. Instead, he cupped her face gently and leaned in towards her. And finally, _finally_ , their lips met in a sweet kiss, releasing the feelings that had been building and growing in the pair for six years. But, unlike she had dreamed of, when they parted it was not with smiles, but instead with tears on both sides. She did not think that she had ever seen Blaise cry before.

"That's not how our first kiss was supposed to go," he said in a scratchy voice.

"I know," she replied, sniffling as she tried to wipe away the moisture still clinging to her eyelashes.

"Promise me," Blaise said, holding her face firmly in place. "Promise me that we'll get a second kiss, better than this one. Promise me that you will stay safe."

"I—"

"Promise me, Bails," he all but begged. Bailey had never seen heard him sound so broken.

"I promise."

"Good," he said, wrapping both arms around her and clutching her close. Bailey breathed in the smell of expensive cologne and nutmeg, trying to memorize everything about him in that moment just in case she never saw him again. She could have stayed there in his arms forever.

But, of course, that was not possible.

"Bailey, are you in he—oh, Blaise!" Amelia burst through the door. She frowned at the scene before her. "Despite the fact that you two would make a very good match, this is really—are you crying?"

Bailey wiped her face dry as Amelia rushed to comfort her.

"What is wrong?" she said. "You've been acting so strangely lately—"

Bailey opened her mouth to offer up some sort of lie, though Amelia was now the only one of her friends to not know her secret, but Blaise beat her to the punch.

"It's been a year, 'Melia," he said softly.

Bailey froze. Everything that had been going on—she had completely forgotten that it was nearing a year since her father's death. But, Blaise had not.

"Oh, Bails, I'm so sorry, I didn't even think!" Amelia babbled, rushing to hug Bailey herself. Blaise took that as his cue to leave, giving Bailey one last meaningful glance before sliding through the door.

Bailey was out of Hogwarts by nightfall.


	28. Epilogue

BLACK HEIR FOUND DEAD HOURS AFTER DUMBLEDORE!

By: Rita Skeeter

As the Wizarding World struggles to cope with the loss of the Greatest Wizard of our time, Albus Dumbledore, we have experienced another blow of near the same magnitude. The family of the late wrongly-convicted Sirius were declared dead this morning.

According to our sources, Minerva 'Bailey' Black (who would have been 17 today) disappeared from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the day before Albus Dumbledore was murdered. This morning, the Blacks' farmhouse outside of Dublin where young Lady Black grew up without knowing of her identity was found burned to the ground, the Dark Mark blazing overhead.

Though the bodies of Lady Black, Mrs. Black (36), and newborn Augustus Black (6 mo) were burned beyond recognition, Aurors found a bracelet in the ashes and bones which close family friends stated was always worn by Lady Black. No word yet on how the Chosen One, Harry Potter, who had been living with them, is taking this latest blow to his already damaged psyche.

Funeral services are to be held on Thursday. It has been requested that only close friends and family attend for security purposes. Flowers and gifts may be sent to Remus Lupin.

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
